One Winged Angel
by Shivani
Summary: Slash, Harry.Tom - One view on why Tom Riddle became Voldemort, and what he does once he realizes that particular truth.
1. Awakening

**Title **: One Winged Angel  
**Warnings **: Slash, sexual situations, character death  
**Pairings **: Harry/Tom  
**Spoilers **: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP (minor HBP)

**Disclaimer **: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary **: One view on why Tom Riddle became Voldemort, and what he does once he realizes that particular truth.

**Notes **: This story was begun prior to HBP being released. Chapter 28 marks the first instance of HBP facts being incorporated, as the book came out just before that point, though Severus's middle name in chapter 2 was updated to reflect new canon information.

* * *

**— 01: Awakening —**

* * *

Harry walked away with his relatives feeling a bit better for the continued show of support made by the Order members, and endured as best he could the ride back to Privet Drive, his uncle muttering under his breath the entire time. Harry was only mildly suspicious of this behavior; a total lack of suspicion would have been beyond him.

Once they arrived, he was allowed to drag his trunk and other belongings to the first floor and settle them into the room he'd been using each summer without fuss. The first week back went well enough, despite the grinding misery of guilt which weighted his heart over the sudden death of Sirius Black. The dreams were enough to force him awake at all hours of the night in a cold sweat, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe, and with the held back screams of anguish.

Such an ignoble death, and he the pawn who had led his godfather there. Much as he might wish to blame anyone but himself, he had to be honest. He had offended, pried into matters which were not his to be curious about, leading to the end of his Occlumency classes. He had lied, telling his friends that he'd kept up his training, allowing another to subvert his mind via the curiosity that could not be eradicated. Still, these dreams did not alert the Dursleys to anything, and did not bring down Uncle Vernon's wrath.

Harry didn't mind that aside from that, things had gone more or less back to one summer's normality. At least the food coming through the flap in the door was warm and plentiful for once, even if it wasn't satisfying. On one supervised trip to the lavatory he had caught the words his uncle was muttering and decided to play one of his cards in defense.

"Uncle Vernon, you should know that if you were to destroy my things they'll come after you, just like they will if they don't hear from me. You really don't want to know what will become of you and yours should it come to that."

In retrospect, Harry would recall that moment and feel some regret.

«« :: »»

Voldemort sat upon his throne-like chair and smiled. His minions had done well with this latest gathering of victims to be dealt with for his pleasure. Already most of them were dead, tortured into insanity, and beyond pleading for their meaningless lives before they'd been snuffed like a tiny flame with a block of ice. Only one remained, an astonishingly lovely muggle woman. The insult of her beauty alone was enough to warrant her death in his eyes, and this one he planned to kill himself.

He rose and paced around her in circles; the only part she could currently move was her eyes, and they spoke volumes. He was enjoying this method of slow torture, letting her imagine all that could be done to her and being powerless to stop it. Just a filthy muggle, waiting for her death, praying to her heathen gods that it would be quick, and knowing it would never be.

Her eyes were gorgeously expressive, clouded with a welter of emotions. Strangely like Potter's, he thought, snarling at her and lunging to see the reaction. He whirled and faced his minions.

"Wormtail, stay! The rest of you, out! Now!" he said menacingly, watching as they scurried off like the rat Wormtail was, yet far more fluid in their movements. They each, even the women, were more of a man than Pettigrew could ever be. They at least had spines.

He continued to pace around the woman, making his movements deliciously languorous, while he mused about his minions. Spines they had, but some of them were becoming a little too bold for his tastes. He absentmindedly cast a minor spell on the woman, watching as she struggled against the magical bindings. He would have to do something soon about them, lest they get the very wrong idea that their Lord and Master was getting soft in his old age.

He stopped circling abruptly and resumed his seat, gazing at the women with dead, cold eyes. He relaxed the bindings enough to free her mouth, then cried, "Crucio!"

The screaming was lovely, like the agonizing music of a demented and tormented musician. He released the spell and saw her eyes clear slightly, then cast again. "Crucio!"

He smiled, letting his serpent-like lips twist in a mockery of delight, hissing out his pleasure at the sight before him, then blinked as the screaming stopped, cut off as if a knife had sliced her throat. Her eyes were locked onto his, and then she spoke in a low, clear voice that sounded strangely dreamy.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord  
Was born as the seventh month died,  
But the one-winged angel could not overcome  
The bond with his mate, though he tried._

All unknowing of this quirk of fate,  
Taught to hate and scorn and despise,  
Did the angel try to kill his bonded  
Led as he was by madness and lies.

Should the twain overcome the deceit  
And save each other from similar fates,  
The bonds of blood and soul and heart  
Will banish forever the darkest of hates.

Her eyes held his for a few moments longer, then closed as the screaming began anew, though weaker. Moments later, she was dead, her sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.

Seconds passed, then minutes, before his head snapped up and turned to Wormtail, cowering against one of the walls. Voldemort raised his wand and obliviated him. "Wormtail!"

Pettigrew threw himself at his master's feet and groveled, trembling as always. "Yes, master," came the oily voice.

"Clean up this mess immediately and make sure no one disturbs me," he snarled, then swept out of the room without waiting for the response. Somewhere far away he knew a boy was screaming.

«« :: »»

Rough hands were shaking him, a loud voice yelling in his ear. He tried to roll away and got backhanded across the face.

"I will _not_ tolerate this in my house!" the voice shouted. Those same rough hands pulled him from his bed, landing him on the floor with a thud. Kicks to his stomach and ribs let loose explosions of pain that flowered indecently in his torso, making him want to cry out and protest. Blood trickled from his mouth, a legacy of his lip bitten against the urge.

He was kicked again, then forced to his feet and propelled by the hair at the back of his neck down to the ground floor, uncaring of the walls he slammed into along the way. Blackness was descending, and he welcomed it.

He awoke to darkness and pain, curled up in a ball with tiny feet marching across his face. He knew where he was by the thin bands of dim light that forced in through the imperfect grating on the door and the feel of spiders using his body to walk on. He could only hope he'd not inadvertently eaten any of them. In an attempt to escape he cast his thoughts back to the meeting he had witnessed through his link.

The words he'd heard spoke deeply to him; he recognized the slightly changed beginning, one of the few who would. But the rest? There was only one person who could be this angel, and that was Voldemort. Maybe he was already dead, or crazy. It sounded entirely too much like the reason that he hadn't been killed had nothing to do with his mother's sacrifice, but because he and Voldemort had already been bound.

Harry couldn't think anymore; the pain was too great to allow him this escape from the harsh reality of his current situation. Or perhaps it was that his cupboard had been opened and hands were yanking from his position on threadbare excuses for sheets, dragging his dazed self out into the hallway and to the kitchen table.

"You will write a series of letters, boy, so that your freak friends won't have any reason to be suspicious. You'll be allowed to keep your damned owl alive just for this."

He gave his uncle a shuttered look and wearily got started. _After all, what choice do I really have? I'm not old enough yet to do magic outside of school._ He continued to write out short letters until his uncle snatched everything away and dragged him back to the cupboard and shoved him in, kicking him for good measure.

«« :: »»

He was pacing a hole in the carpet of his chambers, thinking of the vast incompetence of his followers and what he would like to do to them. But minions weren't grown on trees, and one could not afford to so casually cast them aside. He had more important things to think about, like that muggle's prophecy. He wasn't stupid, nor blind. He knew there were true Seers among the muggles; it was one of the few things that spanned both worlds.

To say it had been a shock was an understatement. He had transferred the memory into a pensieve and watched it dozens of times, trying to figure it out. The beginning was so close to the one overheard, though he still didn't know what it had said. Now perhaps, though, he understood why he had failed.

_Has my whole life been a lie?_ he wondered. _Was everything from the beginning just a road to hell because I was born too soon, or he too late? What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

On and on the thoughts circled, much like his path along the carpeted floor. Finally, exhausted, he sprawled on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. When he opened them he was someplace utterly common, a place he did not in the least recognize, and while he was strangely calm, what he saw began to rapidly eat away at his composure, an uncommon occurrence to be sure.

The pain was not his own. It was held slightly at bay, once removed from his own body, but he recognized the young man who was being beaten. The scar on his forehead was unmistakable. He did not recognize the beefy older man who was currently lashing out at the boy, nor the room which they were currently in. His Harry was being beaten, called a freak. Those emerald eyes, so like his own when they'd been normal, were pleading for release, for the velvet depths of unconsciousness, or death.

He felt like they were burning into his flesh like twin beams of fire. He blinked, and then blinked again when he realized he was staring at the canopy of his bed.

"Why do I get the feeling that really just happened?" he asked himself before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It was several days before anything else happened, but it was much the same as before. One moment he was lying down in order to sleep and the next he was watching Harry getting kicked in the ribs by that same whale of a man. Like before, he could feel Harry's eyes bore into him. Thinking back to the times when he'd sensed Harry's presence during his torturing sessions, he quickly made the assumption that Harry knew he was watching this.

So he tested it. "Harry? Where are you?"

The boy's gaze flickered; he knew. Speech was impossible, though, as the screaming allowed for nothing else. Abruptly he was back in his own room, staring at the canopy. Harry must have blacked out from the pain, or from exhaustion. He had invaded the boy's dreams before, so it stood to reason he could do it again and try to find out where he was.

Then he stopped himself. If this had happened a few weeks ago, he would probably have been seething with anger that anyone dared to harm what was his by right to destroy. And now . . . now he was seething because someone was harming what was his to protect? _What the hell is wrong with me!?_ he snarled in his mind. _I'm a mass murderer, torturer, and all around sadistic bastard, and I'm suddenly falling over my own feet to save one person? Am I going crazy . . . or am I becoming . . . sane?_

Wisely, he decided he was becoming sane, though why it was wise he wasn't sure, just that it was right. So he tried. He closed his eyes and dropped into the same mental state he had used in the past to reach Harry's subconscious mind, where he'd sent dreams of the Ministry in the past.

He painstakingly constructed a neutral room and placed himself and the boy in it, though he appeared as Tom Riddle and not as Voldemort. The only furniture was a desk and chair, the only objects some parchment, a quill, and ink. Bland light filtered in through a dusty window, lighting the room without painful intensity.

He smiled gently and gestured toward the desk, then watched as Harry limped toward it and slumped in the chair. Quietly he walked up behind him to gaze over his shoulder at the parchment. "Tell me where you are, Harry. I promise, I'll find a way to help you. Write it down for me."

And the boy did. Slowly he scratched out the address, then glanced back over his shoulder into equally green eyes.

«« :: »»

Inwardly cursing himself for the stupidity of his actions, Tom watched the house at number four, Privet Drive until all lights were extinguished for the night, then pulled a tangle of snakes from one of his voluminous pockets. He spent several minutes hissing at them, making sure they knew their tasks, then released them.

Ten minutes later they had all returned. The spokes-snake for the first group reported, "_We have caused the muggles to sleep, master. They will not awaken until the morning at the very least. We were forced to use more than normal for the fat ones, so we are not entirely certain._"

Tom gave each of them a loving caress and nodded. "_Well done, my pets,_" he hissed, then turned to the next.

"_The boy's wand is upstairs, master, hidden in a small room, under some floorboards. His scent lingers there, but it is somewhat faint._"

The next hissed, "_The boy is almost inside the door, master. There is a cupboard, tucked in under the stairs. We could not open it, but he resides within. His scent, and the smell of blood, is strong._"

Tom snorted in disgust, partly at himself, partly at the muggles. After sighing he stroked both snakes. "_Very good. We shall have to do this without dark magic, my pets, and I shall need your help again, just as we practiced. You two_"—he pointed at the ones who had gone looking—"_will need to head to the boy's wand and retrieve it. Do you think you can manage it?_"

"_Yes, master. Shall we go now?_"

Tom nodded and watched as they slithered off again toward the house. After heaving another sigh—he still wasn't quite sure if he was sane or insane—he reached into his pocket and removed a silver disc and a small key. "_Listen carefully, my pets. This is just as we worked on. You will need to unlock the cupboard with this key, then take the disc inside and drop it on the boy. Then return to me with the key._"

"_Of course, master._"

Tom held out both items and let them be taken, then watched as the trio slithered off to the house. Tom could only visualize what was happening inside. He'd had the snakes practice for hours before they'd come here.

He knew that the snakes had begun to twine around each other, creating a spiraling column that reached up to the lock on the cupboard door. The last snake would then climb the column and touch the key it held to the lock, causing it to open.

Tom had had every expectation that since Harry must have magical objects in the house with him, like his wand and potion ingredients, that the magical lockpick would be no issue and raise no alarm with the wards.

Once the door was unlocked, the snakes would force it open and the one holding the portkey would touch it to Harry, making him vanish from the cupboard. When all of his snakes had returned, Tom picked them up along with Harry's wand and the key, placed them in his pockets, then apparated directly to the graveyard. Harry was lying there, his hair matted with blood, and welts and open wounds visible through the rags of his clothing.

Tom scooped him up gently, then apparated away. Five minutes later Harry was placed in a soft bed and several house elves called to clean the boy up as best they could without hurting him. When they were done it was evident that Harry was very badly hurt, and this caused Tom a great deal of trouble. The only person among his followers that could possibly deal with the boy's wounds was Severus, and Severus was a traitor.

"Well, I can always obliviate him if necessary, assuming he even shows up. He no doubt thinks I'll kill him on sight." Tom pulled at his hair for several long moments before deciding. "You lot, keep an eye on the boy. I don't think he'll wake, but if he does, keep him here, but do not hurt him."

The elves all nodded vigorously and turned back to watch the boy. Tom whirled and stalked out the door, shutting it behind him, and went to find Wormtail. He found him, the sniveling creature, busily stuffing his face in the kitchen. Food went flying everywhere once Peter realized who was looming over him and cringed back, immediately fearful.

"Get up!" Voldemort commanded, then, "Follow me." He led the way to his audience chamber and seated himself on his chair. A snap of his fingers had Peter kneeling in front of him, kissing his robes, then extending his bared forearm. Voldemort reached out and touched the Dark Mark, willing Severus to heed the call, then sat back and waited. He did not know if the man would be at Hogwarts or elsewhere, and so was prepared to wait at least ten minutes.

He was therefore pleasantly surprised when Severus did appear, and within five minutes. The Potions Master's face was coldly impassive, his eyes carefully blank as he walked forward and kneeled to kiss his master's robes.

Voldemort did not acknowledge him immediately; instead, he pulled out his wand and aimed it at Peter, casting a sleep spell followed closely by obliviation, then turned to Severus. "It is well you have come. I need your help for something urgent. Follow me."

If Severus was surprised by the treatment he said nothing. He rose and stepped back, then followed as Voldemort strode away, leaving Peter snoring on the floor. With every step he took he furthered the change in his appearance. People were fools to believe that his many experiments over the years had caused it, but as it had furthered his aims, he let them believe, even encouraged it.

By the time he and Severus stepped into the bedroom where Harry lay sleeping, he was entirely Tom Riddle once more, and a young one at that. He turned to Severus, noting the swiftly hidden look of shock, and said, "Fix him. Now."

Severus paused for a fraction of a second, then headed for the bed, pausing again when he saw the legendary scar gracing his patient's forehead. Tom could see that Severus's hands were trembling slightly as he began to sort through his arsenal of potions. "I know you have questions, Severus. I will answer them after the boy is not quite so close to death."

A half hour later Severus had done all that he could for the time being. Tom directed him to a chair with a curt, "Sit." Severus did so quickly. "Before I answer your questions, there is something I think you ought to see." Tom brandished his wand and summoned his pensieve, then placed it on a table he conjured. "Go ahead."

Severus wasn't immersed in the memory for long; it wasn't a long memory. But when he came out his eyes were wide.

"I know you betrayed me, Severus. I know you're a traitor. I also know you've saved Harry's life on more than one occasion, for whatever reason. I had a feeling you would help, and—well, if not, I could have always obliviated you afterward, right? I still can. So, ask your questions."

"Who did that to him, my lord?"

"His muggle family," Tom said calmly. "And don't bother with the honorific. I know you don't mean it, so stop insulting me." Severus jerked back slightly, and Tom almost smiled at how transparent the man was being.

"His muggle family? How did you know?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm sure you're aware through Dumbledore that Harry and I share a connection from when I tried to kill him. He's seen quite a bit of what I've done as Voldemort, and I was able to send him dreams. Dreams, I must say, that caused him to lead his godfather to death. Apparently, the connection works both ways, Severus. I was forced to witness what his uncle was doing to him."

"But—"

Tom arched a brow and gave a humorless smile. "But? Did you honestly think, if that prophecy is true, that I would allow anyone to harm Harry? He has always been mine."

"I don't understand how you knew where he was."

"He told me." After seeing the incomprehension on Severus's face, he added, "In a vision I constructed. I asked him to write down where he was, and he did. So I rescued—"

«« :: »»

"Tom?" he called faintly. Tom was out of his chair in a flash, pulling Harry into his arms carefully. "Tom, where am I?"

"You're safe, Harry, don't worry. But you aren't well."

Harry felt very confused and dazed, but the arms around him were comforting, as was the heartbeat under his ear. "How?"

"After you told me where you were, I went there. A number of my snakes put those disgusting muggles to sleep, several got your wand to me, and one dropped a portkey on you. Once I had everything, I apparated to you and brought you here."

"Here?" Harry finally twisted enough to look up into familiar green eyes. "Tom, what day is it?"

"Here is my home. The day is not long after midnight, thirty-first July."

His eyes widened. "Window. Open the window." Harry's attention was caught by someone rising to do just that. "Is that. . . ?"

The corner of Tom's mouth quirked. "Severus, yes. I called him here to heal you."

"But he hates me," Harry whispered as a number of owls swooped into the room and fought for landing space on the bed.

"He can also help us, and will if he knows what's good for him," Tom assured. "Now why so many owls?"

"It's my birthday. I'm sixteen today. They always come. If they'd been turned away, someone would check to see if I were. . . ."

"Ah, I see. Then here is your first present." Tom fished in his pocket and pulled out a wand, pressing it lightly into Harry's hand.

Harry's fingers tightened around the familiar warmth of his wand, and a tentative smile crept across his mouth. Feeling much better, he tried to straighten up, only to find himself being shifted by Tom so that he was leaning back against the man's chest.

"You seem to be taking this very calmly, Mr Potter," came a deep voice off to the side.

Harry's head turned sharply, his gaze coming to rest on his Potions Master. His fingers went into a spasm around his wand, relaxing only when Tom laid a hand over his own. "Yes, I am. Perhaps I might not be had I not heard the lady's prophecy before she died. Maybe I'm just an arrogant, reckless boy, but I don't think Tom is likely to kill me at this point."

Snape's lips compressed into a thin line at the lack of a respectful honorific. "I have seen it," he forced out.

"Perhaps you should deal with these owls, Harry, then we can all talk, all right?" Tom said quietly.

"Oh. All right." Harry slipped his wand behind his ear and started unloading the letters and packages. "This is a bit weird, I admit," he said as he opened the first of them. It was from Mr and Mrs Weasley and contained the usual assortment of food. Harry absently munched on a small mince pie as he reached for the next.

"Harry," Tom said quietly, "have they harmed you before?"

Harry stiffened but continued to eat his pie until it was gone, using his other hand to nudge open the letter and draw out the parchment. Hermione wanted to know if he had received his OWL scores yet. She had also sent along another homework planner for the coming year. "Not exactly," he said finally.

"Are you willing to tell me about it?"

In response Harry gave Snape a narrow look. "I'm sure Professor Snape can tell you some of it. But if you really want to know, I could."

"I realize it's going to take some time, Harry. People don't normally go from trying to kill each other to calm relations overnight. But I think if you consider things, you'll realize that I'd never have felt your pain if I felt the way I used to."

"Are you so sure about that, Tom?" Harry twisted around so he could see Tom's face. "And do you have any idea of what you put me through?"

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and frowned. "Would offering to turn Peter and Bella over to the Ministry go over the wrong way?"

"I don't want to talk about this yet. May I finish opening my presents?"

"Of course."

Harry turned away and reached for the next, slowly working his way through the offerings until they were all revealed. Then he slipped his wand out from behind his ear and placed it on the bedside table so he could fully relax against Tom. "Okay. I hate Peter and Bella, you know."

"Yes, I would imagine so. What would you like me to do about them?"

"I don't know. What will happen to Sirius's holdings now that he's dead?"

"Until it's proven conclusively, nothing. If it were, it would depend on whether or not he left a will."

Harry considered that, then asked, "And if he didn't?"

"It would go to the eldest living relative. Andromeda, most likely."

"Not Draco. All right. What about the fact that he was an Azkaban escapee? Could the Ministry seize his holdings knowing he's dead?"

"They could try, I suppose."

"Fine. Tom, I would very much like if you arranged for Peter and Bellatrix to be delivered to or captured by the Ministry with the express intent of clearing Sirius's name. Those two can go to Azkaban for their crimes against my family."

"That can be ar—" Tom cut off as another owl swooped in through the window and landed on the bed, hooting at Harry.

Harry relieved it of its letter and watched as it flew out immediately, then looked down. The letter had the seal of the Ministry. "Oh dear," he mumbled, flipping it over in his hands a few times. Then he held it up and said, "Will you open it, Tom? I don't dare."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	2. Admissions

* * *

**— 02: Admissions —**

* * *

"I don't see why you're so nervous, Harry, but I will if you insist."

"Please?" Then Harry lowered his voice to a bare whisper and said, "And make him stop smirking."

Tom chuckled and took the letter, saying, "Severus, forgot where you put your Slytherin mask?" The faint sound of wax breaking was heard, then the rustle of parchment. After a minute Tom said, "Well done, Harry," then whispered in his ear, "though I think Severus will be most upset with you."

Parchment appeared in front of Harry's face.

_The following scores listed are the final averages. For more detailed information  
as to results of both theory and practical scores (as applicable) see the reverse._

_A — Astronomy  
E — Care of Magical Creatures  
O — Charms  
O — Defense Against the Dark Arts  
P — Divination  
E — Herbology  
P — History of Magic  
E — Potions  
O — Transfiguration_

_Total OWLs: 7_

"Oh dear," Harry whispered, then shot a speculative look at Snape. "It doesn't matter, Tom. He only accepts Outstandings, and I don't really want to be an auror now anyway." In a louder voice he said, "I still failed two of them, which isn't so good. At least I knew Divination was a dead loss."

"I could make him accept you," whispered Tom conspiratorially.

Harry shook his head. "No, he doesn't like me, and he's given me little reason to like him either under normal circumstances. I won't force myself on him."

"If you say so. Let us see what this next page is. You're supposed to fill out which courses you'd like to continue with and return it to the school."

"So, five classes."

"Dare I hope you failed Potions miserably, Potter?"

Tom pulled Harry back against him and did something that made Severus pale drastically, then said, "Severus, you're only alive at the moment because of my whims, and because you were wise enough to assist earlier. I suggest you keep your sarcasm to yourself for the time being or I will become vexed. If you must know, Harry obtained an Exceeds Expectations for his Potions OWL."

"Don't worry, professor. I know that I won't be in your NEWT level classes," Harry said evenly.

Snape mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Thank the gods."

"But you might want to be wary of Professor McGonagall," Harry added with a slight smile.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, then shut it when another owl flew in through the window and landed on the bed.

"Hedwig! You're all right. But—did you just get back from delivering a letter to . . . someone?"

She hooted at him affirmatively.

"This presents a problem," Snape stated.

"Should I assume that your fat muggle uncle was holding your owl hostage against you 'behaving' yourself, Harry?" Tom asked.

"Yes. And if tho—" Harry gave Snape a desperate sort of look, hating himself for doing it.

"He"—Snape nodded at Tom—"already knows I betrayed him, Mr Potter."

"Oh," Harry breathed, then twisted around to look at Tom. "In that case, if the Order doesn't get letters every three days, they're going to suspect something is up and send someone to check on me."

"Can't you just send letters from here?"

"Maybe, but—well, I don't know. I don't know if they—I guess they couldn't. It's not like they have an owl."

"Sorry, Harry, but could you try that again in English?" Tom asked archly.

Harry sighed and frowned. "I do not think the Dursleys would try to find a way to contact Dumbledore because I went missing. But, I have no idea when the headmaster was planning on removing me from their . . . care . . . this year. I'd have to be there for them to do that."

"Severus?"

The Potions Master arched one brow in consideration. "Albus has not mentioned when he plans to remove Mr Potter from Privet Drive." After a moment he added, "But I can try to find out if you wish."

"Do you know if the wards at Harry's present home preclude the use of the Imperius Curse to prevent his relatives from harming him?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no. They are designed to protect Mr Potter from you. Magic used within the wards is noted, but I am not aware that they would trigger if a controlled person were to enter the domicile."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What's going to happen now? I mean. . . ."

"The answer to that, Harry, is simple, though the execution is not. I fear I am fast losing my previous ambitions, but that does not mean stepping away from them will be easy."

"All right, but what does that mean?"

"It means that even were Lord Voldemort to vanish, others would continue to seek your death in his name. Further, there are plenty of people who could continue to flock to that cause who have not already, and for the chance at exercising their sadistic tendencies, especially on those without magic."

Harry gazed at his hands for a minute. "Then I suppose you'd have to find a way to finish recruiting those who are willing, then make sure they either die in the line of duty or are caught, right?" he said quietly.

"Very astute, Mr Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Harry eyed Snape for a moment, then said, "Thank you, professor."

"Severus, I am willing to make you a deal. In exchange for your willing help and silence on these matters I will give you your freedom."

Harry thought the look on Snape's face was priceless. It wasn't that he gaped, or that his face went slack with surprise, or even that he blanched. It was the stubborn spark of hope that lighted his eyes for a split second, the most alien thing Harry had ever seen in his professor's face.

"When?" Snape asked slowly and cautiously, drawing the word out.

"Now, if you like, though I would have to arrange something different in order to be able to contact you easily. After all, if you're going to play a role in this, you can hardly tell Dumbledore that Voldemort set you free in a fit of insanity. Or would that be . . . sanity?"

Harry could just tell that Tom was smiling.

"What would you want from me?" Snape asked evenly.

"That, my dear man, is simple. You will assist Harry and me in keeping what you've learned tonight a secret. You would assist me by making sure that you overheard . . . certain plans of Voldemort's at times, hopefully ensuring that certain followers were unfortunately captured. It would also be useful if you could manage to find out which children are not actually interested in taking the Dark Mark, or at the very least, make sure that serpent portraits are placed in every single room of Slytherin house to do my spying for me, with Harry to question them on whatever they find. He can tell you, or myself if it's convenient. That is, of course, if Harry is willing to lend a hand."

"If it means that this will finally be over, yes," Harry said quietly.

"Splendid. Harry, would you like me to see if your relatives can be adequately controlled? If so, and it does not set off the wards, you could return to Privet Drive with no one the wiser."

Tom made it sound like a terribly reasonable plan, which made Harry obscurely nervous. "I need to learn Occlumency," he stated.

"Why?" Snape asked in a curiously flat voice.

"Because the headmaster likes to call me in for chats from time to time. He always tries to get me to say more than I wish to reveal. I'm worried that he'll manage to pick something up."

"I see. So you're just going to go along with all of this blithely. Is that it?" Snape asked with a faint hint of sarcasm.

"Tell me, professor, did the headmaster ever reveal the first prophecy to you?" Harry challenged.

"No," Snape said curtly. "And thanks to you, it was destroyed."

"Mm. In any case, professor, I think it's in my best interests to go along for the moment. If I'm the complete and utter waste of life you claim me to be, then I guess you'll have the last laugh when I turn up dead at Voldemort's hand, probably after being tortured into insanity, though, I expect, that wouldn't be nearly as satisfying to a sadist as knowing that your victim is aware of his life slipping away. Otherwise, you may just find out what my reasons are after my oh-so-loving family is leashed and I end up back at Hogwarts quite safe."

"Advocating use of the Unforgivables, Mr Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course. After all, I've used one myself, or tried to." He smirked at the faint look of shock that flitted across the professor's face. "And if it means the Dursleys can't abuse me any longer, why not?"

"You're acting almost Slytherin, Mr Potter."

Harry laughed softly. "Am I? Maybe you're just seeing me for who I actually am, professor."

"As delightful as I find this wrangling, perhaps we should get back to the plans?" Tom suggested. "And as for going back to Privet Drive, that can wait until I've had a chance to stumble over your family outside of their home, and after I'm sure you're healed up properly."

"At least I'm not in the infirmary," Harry muttered.

"Is there anyone you trust implicitly, Harry, that you could see being here with you for the next few days?" Tom asked.

"Dobby," Harry replied promptly.

"A house elf?" Snape sneered.

"Yes, a house elf. Though I'm not sure if the headmaster would notice him gone from the castle."

"The only people who live at Hogwarts over the summer holiday are the caretakers and the house elves, Potter. We do have lives, you know."

"Why don't you try calling this Dobby, then, Harry," suggested Tom.

"Call him?" Harry furrowed his brow. It wasn't like there was a class for muggleborns on how the wizarding world worked.

"Are you that—" Snape began, then abruptly stopped.

Harry shot Snape a dark look, even knowing that it must have been Tom keeping the man from being too much like his usual self. At least Tom was allowing him to handle most of it himself, though it was somewhat annoying that he couldn't see what Tom was doing most of the time being propped up against the man's chest. He wasn't really sure just how much Dobby could protect him, especially against a Dark Lord as powerful as Voldemort should Tom slip, but it was worth having the elf nearby regardless. With a slight sigh, Harry closed his eyes briefly and called for Dobby in his mind, hoping the odd bond they had formed would be enough.

A pop announced the arrival of an elf, causing Harry to open his eyes and see Dobby standing next to the bed looking around with wide eyes, his hands clasped together in front of him. "Harry Potter sir!" Dobby cried, then hopped onto the bed and looked expectantly at Harry.

"Hello, Dobby. It's good to see you again."

Dobby had another look around, pausing on Snape and Tom, then looked back at Harry as he tested the bounce factor of the bed. "What is Harry Potter sir wanting?"

"Will you stay with me here for a few days, Dobby, until I'm better?"

"Here?" Dobby looked around a third time. "If Harry Potter wishes it, Dobby will do it. Harry Potter is ill?"

"You can . . . protect me, Dobby. For the moment, though. . . ." Harry twisted around to look at Tom. "He is going to have full run of this place, right?"

"Of course. There are no Death Eaters here, Harry. Just you, me, Severus, and the house elves. Well, and Peter, but he's prevented from entering certain parts of the house."

"Then you won't be offended if I ask Dobby to be the one to prepare my meals."

"No, Harry, I won't."

"Dobby, will you promise me something?"

Dobby stopped bouncing and looked at him. "Dobby already promised never to save your life again, Harry Potter sir."

Harry grinned and said, "I know, and thank you. Will you promise not to tell anyone about any of this? Even Professor Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore isn't Dobby's master, so Dobby doesn't need to say anything. Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets."

"Thanks, Dobby. If you want to go look around so you know where everything is, that would be all right."

Dobby clapped and nodded, then scrambled off the bed and out the door.

"A house elf, Potter?" Severus repeated.

"Shouldn't you know this already, professor? I tricked Malfoy into setting Dobby free, so Dobby is pretty fond of me, aside from what he felt before I ever met him."

Snape gave him a pointed look. Harry translated that to mean he wanted more information, but wasn't about to come right out and ask for it. Harry sighed and fiddled with his hair. "Why do I get the feeling that the headmaster keeps things from you, professor." The affronted look he received told Harry what he needed to know, so he explained briefly how he had met Dobby and how he had come into play during his second year at Hogwarts.

At that point, Tom cut back in. "When Dobby returns, how about you get some sleep, Harry, and tomorrow Severus can see if there's anything more he needs to do for your health."

«« :: »»

When Harry was finally resting comfortably—he had refused a sleeping draught—Tom led Severus out of the room and down the hall. It took only a minute to reach the study Tom normally used, and he waved Severus into a chair as he took his usual seat behind the desk. "So, will you assist us?" he asked calmly, then added, "And, I'd prefer you speak your mind, Severus. It's easier that way. The absolute worst I will do to you is obliviate this entire evening. Unless you anger me beyond reason, that is."

"Do you truly mean to remove my mark?"

"If you cooperate, yes."

"I don't understand why Potter is handling this turn of events so well. I understand even less why you are."

"I would not be surprised if Harry knows the contents of the original prophecy, Severus, and if so, I imagine that has something to do with his current attitude. I have no doubt that he is conflicted, but trusts that for this time, at least, I will not harm him. He obviously expects me to protect him from you." Tom smirked slightly. "A conscience, once awoken, is a difficult thing to put back to sleep. For myself, it is like waking up from a decades long dream. I have what I want now, just not in the way I expected it. I do not plan on driving him away."

"Do you honestly think he'll forgive you for the death of his parents?"

"Time will tell. In any case, I won't die until he does, so I have a very long time to convince him of my sincerity."

"If you remove my mark, how do you plan on contacting me?"

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, there is such a thing as a Protean Charm, you know. Get your head out of your cauldrons occasionally—you might actually learn a few things."

Severus's lip twitched faintly. "Then what do you suggest, if I may ask?"

"You wear no jewelry? You carry no charms? No pieces of superstitious good luck?"

"I have never been fond of adornments and have never thought they would benefit me."

Tom snorted. "Then I suggest an armband to go where your Dark Mark currently is. Unless, of course, you prefer a ring or pendant, however badly that might clash with your undeniable fashion sense."

Severus snorted. "Do you have anything suitable here?"

"Nothing I'm prepared to give up."

"If I may ask, why don't you simply contact Albus and tell him this is over but for the farce involved in subduing the more . . . enthusiastic . . . Death Eaters?" asked Severus rather bravely.

Tom smiled softly. "And open myself up, and Harry, to interference from that old man? He's already run Harry's life for him, setting him up to be in a position almost every year to thwart whatever my plans were, not to mention having left him with those muggles. Harry has been extraordinarily lucky to have survived and is apparently blessed in the friends he has made. But if Albus knew? I think not. Harry would become a bargaining point, Severus, a different kind of tool, to ensure my behavior. In all likelihood, Harry would have to fight his way free of Albus's domination, or I would become a different kind of darkness."

Severus nodded slightly. "Yes, I understand."

"How is Harry?"

"Fine, or he will be by morning. The cracked and broken bones will be fully mended by then, as well as the tissue damage. I will have to check him over again tomorrow—rather, later today—to see if there is anything I missed."

"Very well. You can take the time to find something suitable for use with a protean charm and bring it with you when you return. Once that has been set up, I can remove the mark." When Severus nodded, Tom asked, "Tell me, Severus, why did you answer the summons?" He thought it was interesting that Severus's expression blanked out at the query. "What? You did not think I'd ask?"

"I was prepared to die."

"How very interesting. Well, if we all play nice together, perhaps you won't desire that any longer, hm? Come along, then." Tom rose and swept out of the room, sensing that Severus was following, and led him back to the audience chamber, checking first that Peter was still sleeping before entering. "As you've never been here before, you should know that the majority of the property is protected by apparation wards, so you will need to return to this room. I'll expect you at noon, properly masked to avoid any accidents, with something suitable for the charm. Are we clear?"

Severus nodded. "Tomorrow, then," he said, then disapparated.

Tom glanced down at Peter and sighed. "I hope I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life." After summoning a house elf to remove Peter to his rooms, Tom returned to Harry's room.

«« :: »»

Severus arrived promptly at noon in full Death Eater regalia. Tom smiled and held up a vial of clear liquid. "I think I'll assure myself that all is well, hm?" He gestured toward a plain chair and was pleased to see that Severus sat down without protest. After administering three drops, he waited for the potion to take effect.

"State your name."

"Severus Tobias Snape."

"Did you inform any living person, portrait, sentient creature, or ghost of what happened while you were here earlier?"

"No."

"Did you record what happened while you were here earlier in any fashion?"

"No."

"So you did not inform Albus Dumbledore or any member of the Order about those events."

"I did not."

"Are you genuine in your willingness to assist me and Harry?"

"Yes."

"Did you really answer my summons last evening with the expectation of death?"

"Yes."

"Hm." Tom shrugged and administered the antidote. Once Severus was no longer influenced, Tom turned sharply and gestured, then strode off toward Harry's room. It was well that Peter remained out of sight and the wards on the areas of the manor he was allowed to roam in prevented the use of his animagus form. They arrived without problems, with Harry's only reaction being a brief glance up from the book he was reading.

«« :: »»

Harry assumed it was Professor Snape and looked back down at his book as Tom dropped into the chair next to the bed. Rustling noises made him glance up again in time to see the man divesting himself of the mask and cloak and returning to the much more familiar sight Harry was used to. Out of politeness, Harry lowered the book to his lap and waited.

Somewhat to his surprise, Snape approached and brought out his wand, then proceeded to do scans of his body similar to what Madam Pomfrey would do in the infirmary. Several minutes and several measuring looks later, Snape returned his wand to hiding and began producing potion vials from his robes.

"Things are progressing nicely. These are for muscle soreness, residual pain, and the like. I'm quite sure you've had these before, Potter, so you should be able to recognize them for what they are." Snape held up another vial and said, "This is a nutritive potion to help with what I suspect was a decided lack of food since you left Hogwarts. This one you take all of, the others only sips as necessary."

Harry nodded as Snape placed the vials on the bedside table. "Thank you, professor." He tracked Snape as the man took a seat, then looked at Tom when he cleared his throat gently.

"Where does your uncle work, Harry?"

"A firm called Grunnings. They make drills, I think." Harry furrowed his brow. "I have no idea where it is, though."

"What about your aunt and cousin?"

"Aunt Petunia doesn't work, but she's in and out fairly often. Dudley usually hangs out with his friends, bullying whoever they can find in the neighborhood."

"Then I can experiment on one of them first and see what happens. If there is no response, I can take care of the other two. Assuming things go to plan, you would be able to return to Privet Drive and be assured of your safety at their hands." Tom paused, then said, "Severus and I have a few things to take care of. Are you in need of anything?"

Harry shook his head. "Dobby will have lunch up here soon. I'm fine, but thank you for asking."

"All right. I will make sure you know if I leave." Tom rose and swept out, followed by Snape.

Harry stared at the open door for several seconds, then shrugged and went back to his book.

«« :: »»

Tom was amused to see that Severus had brought with him a simple silver ring with absolutely nothing to distinguish it. The inner surface was smooth as glass, which suited Tom just fine. After a minute of study he replicated it, then cast the spell to link the two bands. Severus reclaimed the original, and slipped it onto his right hand after Tom ran a test.

Tom felt the slightest twinge of guilt at the pain he was about to induce in his companion, but pushed that away as he extended his wand. Several minutes later, after Severus had got himself back under control, Tom smiled, and was surprised to see an answering smile from Severus, faint though it was.

"So, Severus, are you interested in tracking down some muggles with me to curse?"

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	3. Muggle Hunting

* * *

**— 03: Muggle Hunting —**

* * *

After checking in with Harry to let him know they were going out for a while, Tom and Severus, dressed in muggle clothing, apparated to Little Whinging. As Severus had never been there before, Tom allowed him to use Legilimency to see his memory of the area. Of course, he walled everything else away. Severus was likely only helping because it served his own interests, not out of any real feeling for Harry, himself, or anyone else. It was an unfortunate side effect of Slytherin house, and far too many fell into that trap. Tom shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and looked across the street at number four.

"Potter resides in that abomination?" Severus asked quietly.

Tom gave him an amused look. "For muggles this is a perfectly proper, normal home, I'm sure. Though, no doubt, this family would prefer to move up in the world. At least it's not Council housing."

"This place is a nightmare. Cookie cutter homes and no space. How they do not drive each other mad being in such close proximity is beyond me." Severus had a look of utter disdain on his face, accented by a sneer of epic proportions.

"Yes, well. Unfortunately, we cannot simply approach the house. Ah, wait, here comes one of them now." Tom watched avidly as a whale of a boy lumbered out of the house and hefted his bulk down the walk, making a leisurely turn onto the pavement at the end. The boy was, apparently, in a rather good mood if his off-key whistling was anything to go by.

Tom and Severus followed him at a distance, slowly closing the gap. As soon as they saw an alley they sped up and smoothly diverted the boy down it and to the end. It went almost without saying that Dudley began to show a mixture of bravado and fear almost immediately.

"Silence, land whale," snapped Severus, brandishing his wand after Dudley tried to threaten them with a beating, then smirked dangerously when the boy skittered back with his hands against his backside.

Tom flipped his wand into view, pointed it at Dudley, then lazily intoned, "Imperio." He mentally instructed Harry's cousin to act as though Harry was no one to be concerned with or worry about, to leave him alone and not to threaten or harm him in any way, shape, or form. Otherwise, he was to act normally, though not reveal anything of what had just happened. A moment later he told Dudley to return to his home to have a drink of water before heading back out.

They shadowed him back to number four and watched from across the street as he entered the house. Five minutes later Dudley emerged and hastened off. Tom and Severus waited an additional half hour, then returned to Tom's estate.

"I can only assume that you'll hear something soon if my little party trick is noticed." When Severus nodded he said, "Well, I'm going to see Harry. You may stay if you like, or leave, though if so, I'd like you to return tomorrow—earlier if necessary."

Severus nodded a second time and removed the glamour that had been hiding his features. "I would prefer to go for the time being. If Albus does need to contact me for some reason, it would be just as well if I were at home."

Tom nodded and swept out.

«« :: »»

Harry set down his book as Tom entered the room and looked at him curiously. "So what happened?"

Tom shrugged. "Nothing much. We stumbled over your cousin on his way to do some mayhem and I used the Imperius Curse on him, then sent him back inside for some water. Nothing happened, but we'll wait and see on that."

Harry tilted his head, then nodded. "Voldemort must die."

Tom blinked.

"You know he must. It isn't enough that the Death Eaters are taken care of."

"If I die, Harry, you probably will also."

Harry snorted and gave Tom an incredulous look. "And you call yourself a Slytherin?"

Tom arched a brow, then nodded. "All right. I'm sure we can work something out. But, that wasn't why I'm here."

"Then what?"

"Ask whatever you will. I'll try to answer."

"How am I supposed to trust you, Tom?"

"I don't know," Tom replied. "I'm not sure I would either, considering what I've put you through over the years. My only defense is insanity, and while that may be truth, it doesn't change the fact that I killed your parents, tried to kill you on numerous occasions, and let my people try to kill your friends. The only thing I have going for me is time and sincerity. By the way, good show on beating them back."

"Yes, it is rather sickening that the only one who managed a kill was Wormtail," Harry said with mild scorn. "Crafty little bastard."

Tom nodded. "One of Voldemort's biggest scores and failures, all in the same person."

"So what exactly do you mean, time and sincerity, and how is it that you can trust Snape to not betray you again?"

"I offered him his life back, Harry. I removed the Dark Mark as I promised. I think he wants all of this over and done with as much as we do and he's enough of a Slytherin to take the expedient route."

"That doesn't mean much if when I return to Hogwarts I find myself locked up in the castle 'for my own good,' Tom."

"Yes, but I think you are also crafty. Something tells me that if that happened, you could lie your way out of it and deny anything other than having gone along with things to lull me into a sense of security. By extending false trust, you got yourself out of Voldemort's clutches and back to safety."

Harry looked off to the side, then said, "I'm not sure if I'm that good of an actor, and my temper is not the best. You really think Snape will, er, behave?"

"It's in his own best interests, Harry. People deride Slytherins for their traits, but if you understand them you can use them to manipulate, rather like I expect your headmaster has manipulated you based on your own tendencies. If Snape fails us, he will die, and I would not stop until you were free of Dumbledore and set up in a life you could enjoy, even if it meant helping you to escape the country."

"Back to trust and sincerity," Harry said. "Let's assume that the Imperius Curse works and you manage to get all three of them. Then let's assume I return to Privet Drive safe and sound. What then?"

"Then I find a nice place in Hogsmeade so I can be nearby during the school year in case you want to talk or visit."

"Hn. So you're just going to let me go on the strength of a prophecy and hope for the best?" Harry gave Tom a wide-eyed look.

"Essentially."

"What about the fact that all prophecies are recorded?"

"What about the fact that this might not be the first time it was spoken?" countered Tom.

"Just what are you suggesting?"

"I merely speak of a possibility. Someone aside from us and Severus may already know of it."

"Admittedly, I was a very poor Divination student, but I thought a prophecy was only ever spoken once."

"Generally, yes. But there could have been something similar earlier. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, just point out that this may not be as much of a secret as we believe it to be. I'm merely counseling caution. I won't lie, Harry. I've never trusted Dumbledore, and I see no particular reason to start now."

"How exactly do you plan on hanging around Hogsmeade. Some people will recognize you, like Ginny."

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Voldemort's appearance is not natural. Even this one isn't considering how old I actually am. I'm a metamorphmagus, so I can appear however I wish. People assume that Voldemort looks as he does because of the many experiments I conducted in my search for power and immortality." He paused, then added, "Ginny?"

"Your diary, Tom, the one that tried to use Ginny's life force to resurrect you. She knows what you looked like at sixteen and I don't think she would forget."

Tom gave him a curious look, furrowing his brow. "I suppose I have you to thank for her life, then." When Harry nodded he said, "I very much doubt she would listen to reason if I tried to apologize."

Harry smirked faintly, then changed the subject. "How much do you know about soul bonds?" He twitched the book on his lap.

"I know that I won't die until you do. I know that I became what I was because you were not born at the right time. Even if I had not become a dark lord, I would have been insane to some degree or another. I know that the faster your sixteenth birthday approached, the more I swam up from that insanity. It has been a rather confusing process, I admit."

"In other words, not much," Harry stated.

Tom made an agreeable noise and shrugged. "It's not as though it mattered to me until just recently, and I was more concerned with figuring out how to remove you from that place without tripping the wards."

Harry gave a shrug of his own.

"Are you willing to tell what the first prophecy said?"

"That assumes I've even heard it."

Tom smiled slightly. "Of course."

"How do you recruit?" Harry asked, changing the subject again.

"Various methods. Some candidates approach me indirectly, others are brought in by their family, and others are seduced into it."

"And you take people who aren't willing?"

"That depends. For instance, Draco Malfoy is a prime candidate because of Lucius, but I haven't investigated too deeply because of his age. Some of them are bullied into it by their parents, and once inducted into my ranks they have little choice but to go along."

"What about those who never wanted it, and still don't?"

"If they have not been marked, they will not be. Those already within my ranks . . . I'm not sure. It is bad enough I have released Severus. I imagine it would be highly suspicious if more suddenly found themselves free. In any case, they have all done things worthy of Azkaban."

Harry arched his brow. "As have you. As have I."

"One attempt at Cruciatus is hardly Azkaban material, Harry."

Harry snorted. "Tell that to the Ministry. My point is, those who never wanted that life might be let go, somehow."

"We will have to think on it further, then. I will not accept any new recruits unless they truly wish it."

"For the express purpose of getting them killed or captured."

"Yes. The more brought in, the fewer who would remain behind to create a new dark lord to cluster behind."

"Does that bother you, what you're going to do?"

"A number of things bother me at this point, but I won't let that blind me to what's necessary, nor prevent me from moving forward. If I am sincere, then I must attempt the effort of helping to clear away the past."

"Necessity hath no law." 1

Tom gave Harry a piercing look, then nodded and capped it. "Learning carries within itself certain dangers because out of necessity one has to learn from one's enemies." 2

Harry smiled. "All right."

"And you failed History of Magic?"

"It would take a far more dedicated person than I to stay awake during Binns's lectures."

Tom chuckled quietly. "You are a far more engaging person when we aren't attempting to kill each other, Harry."

Harry looked at the wall for a second, then said, "I'm glad I don't need to take Potions any longer. Snape has hated me from the moment he laid eyes on me. But I'm not sure how I'm going to learn Occlumency."

"If you want, I'll make sure books are delivered to you on the subject. Was it Severus who tried to teach you?"

"Yes. It didn't go very well. I suppose I owe him an apology, though." At the curious look on Tom's face he said, "He was called away one evening unexpectedly during a lesson. He had not secured his pensieve and I'm afraid my curiosity got the better of me. Needless to say, he caught me at it."

"Did you tell anyone what you saw?"

"No, but I doubt he would believe that. I think he would assume that our mutual hatred of each other would lead me to use that knowledge against him. I wonder, sometimes. . . ."

"Yes?"

"He was called away by Dumbledore. Sometimes I wonder if that was planned."

"For what reason?"

"I'm not sure. Well, I am, but. . . . It has to do with what I witnessed. If Dumbledore knew what kinds of things Snape would have removed prior to the lessons, he could have called Snape away knowing that I'm too curious for my own good. He's always disliked that Snape and I cannot get along. Maybe he thought what I saw would make me see things differently."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"If that is what he wanted, he failed. Oh, sure, I saw some things differently, but it doesn't change the fact that Snape has hated me for all the wrong reasons and still does. What I saw doesn't change that, and what I saw isn't the whole story. I can't make decisions based on a single incident. I can respect Snape for what he's tried to accomplish and how stoic he's been, but I can't simply stop caring about his treatment of me when he shows no signs of stopping, or admitting that his reasons are based on fiction and faulty reasoning."

"You don't hate Severus, you hate his treatment of you?"

"Something like that."

"Occlumency would be why he could tell me something about your life with the Dursleys?"

Harry nodded.

"Will you tell me about them?"

"Only if you promise not to harm them."

"Why?"

"Ignorance isn't solved by pain or death, Tom, and fear will simply make things worse."

"You sound terribly wise for your years."

"I have you to thank for that," Harry said pointedly.

Tom winced openly. "I deserve that. Yes, I promise not to harm them."

"I'll give you the basics, then. My family despises and fears us. My room was the cupboard you rescued me from until I received my letter for Hogwarts. They gave me Dudley's second room for fear that our kind would do something horrible to them. The only person who regularly tried to hurt me was Dudley, and that included scaring away anyone who might have become a friend as well as physical harm. My aunt and uncle were far more likely to scream and yell at me and hand over another long list of chores."

"And this summer?"

"I made the mistake of telling Uncle Vernon that it would be a bad idea for him to give into his impulse to burn my belongings as the Order would come after him. He started beating me not long after that. I should have kept my mouth shut. The important things are where I kept my wand. I could have replaced everything else, though he wouldn't have known it."

"I take it he has no idea about Gringotts."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "No. If he'd known I had my own money, he would have tried to find a way to take it. After all, they've been so good to me, letting me stay in their home and feeding me table scraps. Rightfully, I should give them all that I have in order to repay them."

"I see. Are you quite sure you don't want them harmed, even a little bit?"

Harry stared at him. "Quite sure. We'll see how I feel once I'm legally adult in the wizarding world."

Tom brightened. "Now that is something I can help with. If you like, I can remove the Ministry interference which tattles on you if you perform underage magic."

Harry considered that for a minute. He could hand his wand over and never see it again. Of course, Tom had given it over willingly and could probably have stolen it back at any time. Then again, who said it was the wand? "How easy is it to detect if it's there?" he asked finally.

"Mm, I see your point. Someone like Dumbledore, or even McGonagall, might notice the change."

"Then don't worry about it. It's only another year, most of which will be spent at school. If the Dursleys are leashed this summer, and next, it shouldn't matter, right?"

"Point conceded." Tom frowned, then said, "Listen, I'm going to head out for a while to gather up serpent paintings. I'll bring the lot back here so we can have a chat with them, and afterward I can give them to Severus to place around Slytherin house."

"Where would I be able to contact one safely? And I hope you aren't thinking of me getting detention once a week with Snape, though I admit he could probably come up with more brilliant transgressions such as breathing to get me to scrub his cauldrons."

"Perhaps Dobby could be of further assistance?" Tom suggested.

Harry blinked and called for his friend. A moment later Dobby popped into the room and dropped onto the bed. "Sir is wanting Dobby?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck and briefly explained to the elf what he and Tom were trying to accomplish, then asked, "Do you have any suggestions as to how I could keep in contact with one of the portraits on a regular basis without getting caught by anyone?"

"That is depending, sir. Dobby could bring a portrait to Harry Potter, or bring Harry Potter to a portrait."

"Huh?"

"Sir is knowing that house elves do not apparate, so house elves is being able to move around freely in Hogwarts. Dobby can bring Harry Potter with him."

"So you could place a serpent portrait in a private place at the castle that only you could get to, but the serpent could talk to its fellows in Slytherin house?"

"That is being it, sir."

"I don't see why that wouldn't work, Tom. In fact, if Dobby is willing, he could place all of the portraits so that they wouldn't be noticed, but they could overhear everything. Snape wouldn't need to risk himself to manage it."

"I agree, Harry, if Dobby is willing."

"Dobby is happy to help Harry Potter. May Dobby take Harry Potter as his master?"

Harry gaped for a moment. "What? Dobby, you like being a free elf!"

"Dobby was happy being freed from the bad wizard. Dobby is being happy that Dobby could experience freedom, but Dobby is being tired of it now."

"Hermione would kill me if she knew I took on a house elf," Harry said, paling.

"Harry Potter's Hermione does not need to know, sir. Harry Potter is the only master Dobby would accept."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and cast a desperate sort of look at Tom before glancing back at Dobby, who had a calm, serious expression on his face. Harry looked a little more closely and saw the same kind of focused determination he had seen on earlier occasions in the elf's eyes. So he nodded. "Dobby, if I were to accept, would you still be willing to work at Hogwarts as though nothing had changed?"

Dobby widened his eyes and said, "Yes, but Dobby is being sure to follow Harry Potter once Harry Potter finishes his seventh year."

'Independent little sod,' Harry thought, then blinked when Tom choked back a fit of laughter. He gave Tom a piercing look, then turned back to Dobby. "I accept, then. Is there some sort of a ceremony that needs to be done?"

Tom cleared his throat and interrupted with, "You should know that there are two forms of binding, Harry. One binds only Dobby to you, while the other binds his entire line to your family."

"Uh, it's fairly unlikely I'll have children," Harry pointed out. "Which would you prefer, Dobby?"

"The second, sir."

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry protested.

"In either case, without progeny, Dobby and his line would be released once you were dead."

Harry took another look at the ernest expression on Dobby's face, then nodded. "If it makes you happy, all right."

«« :: »»

When Tom returned the three of them sat on the bed—Harry found it very interesting that Tom had raised no objections to Harry's normal treatment of house elves—and spent time instructing a multitude of small serpent portraits in what they would need to do over the coming year—in fact, until they were told otherwise—and to whom they would report.

It was at that point that Harry raised an objection. "We're being awfully short sighted here. Why are we targeting only Slytherins?"

"Because it is extremely rare that a member of the other houses would seek to become a Death Eater," Tom said.

"That doesn't mean they won't and haven't."

"Would you like to add portraits to the other house areas, then?"

"I expect people would use silencing charms or similar," Harry admitted, "or not risk speaking about such things in their own houses. I would imagine it'd be different in Slytherin, but I've only been in there once, so how would I know?"

Tom quirked up a corner of his mouth.

"It's a long story. Dobby, do you know of the more popular hiding places in Hogwarts?"

"Of course, master."

"Then perhaps we could spare some for those instead."

"I'll need to get more, then," Tom commented. "I can do that tomorrow."

"Okay. Dobby, can you take this lot to Hogwarts and start hiding them for us? Then come back here when you're done."

"Dobby is being happy to, master." He began snapping his fingers, causing the portraits to shrink and leap into his hand. A minute later he was gone.

Harry turned to Tom and frowned. "Why did you almost choke earlier?"

"Because you called Dobby an independent little sod."

"I never said that out loud, Tom."

* * *

1. "Necessity hath no law." — Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658), British Parliamentarian general, Lord Protector of England. speech, Sept. 12, 1654, to Parliament. Quoted in Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, Thomas Carlyle (1845).

2. "Learning carries within itself certain dangers because out of necessity one has to learn from one's enemies." — Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Russian revolutionary. Literature and Revolution, ch. 6 (1924).

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	4. Back Again

* * *

**— 04: Back Again —**

* * *

"Of course you did."

"No, I would never have said that out loud with Dobby standing right there. It might have hurt his feelings, Tom."

Tom glanced sideways at the book Harry had cast aside earlier. "Then I suppose it is somehow related to the soul bond."

"I expect you're correct," Harry said. "We shall see, I suppose. Anyway, assuming that you are able to leash all of my relatives, how am I supposed to get back into Privet Drive unnoticed? The Order does have people on duty, you know. Frankly, I'm not sure how you managed to get me out so easily." Harry paused, frowned slightly, then added, "Though, I suppose Dung might have been the one. He's not exactly . . . sharp."

"You've only been gone the one day so far, Harry. I imagine that Severus can assist with the duty schedule. If this Dung is back up quickly, it may not be an issue. Otherwise, it may be easy enough to create a diversion somewhere in the neighborhood. Severus will be back tomorrow—earlier if necessary."

"I don't suppose you have an invisibility cloak handy?"

"Not offhand, no. But there are potions for that, and I could send you in after dark through the back door. All you might need is a magical lockpick."

"All right."

"It's getting late. I need to start making preparations for tomorrow, so I'll leave you be for now. Dobby can find me if you have need of me."

«« :: »»

Severus arrived the next morning at ten and was duly informed that the issue of portraits was already being handled. Harry could not tell if the man was annoyed by the news or not. Certain people might have taken the information to mean they were not trusted with the knowledge of where the spies had been placed rather than being pleased they would not have to manufacture reasons for being within the castle over a holiday. In the end, it really didn't matter.

Severus was able to report that there was no news as of yet about the date on which Dumbledore planned to retrieve Harry from his family—Harry suspected it would not be for several weeks yet—and was able to produce the address for the firm Vernon worked at. Tom and Severus left shortly thereafter, leaving Harry alone for quite some time.

When Tom did return, he was alone, and Harry was deeply engrossed in a book on Occlumency. Harry did not look up until startled out of his studies by the sound of a throat being cleared.

"Your aunt and uncle have been handled," Tom stated with a slight smile.

After shooting him a suspicious look, Harry said, "In the expected manner, I assume."

"Yes, of course. Your uncle seemed a little resistant at first, but caved under my will fairly quickly. I was worried there for a bit that we would have to come up with a new plan because of him, but it's fine. Your aunt, on the other hand, has no will at all. We'll give it another day, then sneak you back in. I'll swing by once a week to make sure everything is still all right. As I believe you know, the Imperius Curse must be reinforced from time to time."

Harry nodded. "I remember that from Barty Crouch. What if Uncle Vernon is stronger than you think?"

"Dumbledore didn't set you up with any contingency plans, did he?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head. "He doesn't think it would be necessary. Though, after I was attacked by those dementors, I would have expected something from him in case I needed to alert the Order. But . . . nothing. One would have thought being beaten would have triggered some sort of alarm. . . ."

Tom sighed. "Every three days, then."

"You can always send me dreams, Tom," Harry pointed out with a slight smile.

"Yes, I can. I find it hard to believe that Dumbledore is naïve enough to think that your muggle family is thrilled to have you."

"Well, he always has had a watcher in the neighborhood, but I think I can safely say that it has been a less than efficacious idea."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

Harry gave a slight shrug and a lopsided smile. "If you consider that I had to be rescued by the Weasley boys for my second year after I was locked and barred in, you might see. Obviously, the watcher noticed nothing out of the ordinary, or was put off by my family. Every year I've returned to school looking thin and overworked, but no one has ever questioned it." After a pause he added, "At least, nobody in charge. And of course, I was locked away and beaten this summer, and the only person who noticed was you. What does that say?"

"Yes, I quite see your point. Dumbledore cannot believe, despite any evidence, that your family would harm you, so has never given you any way to alert your watchers. He is a bit too blinded by his faith in humanity."

Harry shrugged again. "Or, he believes that adversity breeds strong men."

Tom snorted loudly. "Yes, and we all know how well I turned out, no?"

Harry smiled faintly and changed the subject. "Were you able to obtain more portraits?"

"Indeed." Tom produced a packet from his pocket and placed it on the bed, then enlarged it, revealing a neat bundle of portraits tied together with string. After loosing the bindings they set out to instruct the newest set of serpents in their duties, then turned them over to Dobby for placement.

"Then, aside from getting the reports, that's the end of that," Harry said with a relieved sigh. "I am not looking forward to returning to the Dursleys."

"Well, aside from manufacturing a reason to trip the wards, I can see no other alternative. And even then, you would have to return first, even if only to grab your treasures and fly out the window as if in escape."

Harry sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter. So long as they leave me be, I should be all right. I know the Order will come for me eventually. Besides, my broom is still at the school. The earlier I leave, the more people will be around to constantly annoy me."

"How do you mean?"

Tom looked genuinely curious, so Harry obliged with a grimace. "People always seem to want to know what's in my head, and absolutely love telling me what they think is best for me, even if that means me spilling every thought I've had about everything since I was old enough to retain memories. And when I'm not forthcoming, people start to assume I'm keeping secrets and hiding things from them, or that I don't trust them."

"And you prefer to keep your own counsel, speaking up only when you deem it necessary?"

"Something like that, yeah. I don't think my friends should have to bear the burdens I'm forced to. They don't need to understand what all this has meant to me, and done to me. They deserve a normal life."

"And you?" Tom asked, then frowned when Harry smiled sadly. "We'll just see about that."

"Tom, even after this is all over, I'll still be Harry Potter. People aren't going to let that go, even my friends."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Harry. There are always ways."

"What, like disappearing? Then they'd all feel betrayed by my choice."

Tom shrugged. "And if you stayed, you'd be a touchstone for everyone else. You wouldn't have a life, you'd be a sideshow. Which is better in the end?"

"Something that allowed me to keep my friends, but kept me anonymous. People don't like saviors, Tom. They don't like feeling grateful. They don't like feeling ashamed that they had to rely on someone else, especially a unprepossessing young boy. I make them feel inadequate."

"All true, and all the more reason to disappear in the aftermath, or fake your own death. They have a martyr and you get a life."

"With you."

"Hopefully, yes."

Harry averted his gaze, staring at the bedcovers as though they were fascinating. Tom got the point and rather than continue in that vein, instead asked softly, "Why are you being so open?"

The corner of Harry's mouth curled up before he said, "You have to give something to get something, Tom. That's a basic tenant of life, no? Or Slytherin. I actually do believe you trust me, so it behooves me to try to do likewise. If I'm a fool, I won't be around very long to regret it, I expect, and if I'm not, I probably won't have a reason to regret."

"Something tells me that your friends have absolutely no idea who you really are," Tom said accusingly.

Harry glanced up, eyes bright. "I think they try very hard to believe their perceptions aren't affected by my fame, and for the most part, succeed."

Tom held up a hand and nodded. "How have you been faring with that book on Occlumency?"

Harry blinked and lifted his chin. "Not so bad. Having some idea on the underlying theory is useful. It also helps that there are many examples of ways to protect your mind, as not everyone thinks alike."

Tom nodded. "I would offer practical lessons, but I do not think that would be wise. I have no wish to intrude further into your mind than necessary, especially now. Severus would likewise be a poor choice, perhaps, and there is no one I would trust to oversee that part of your education."

"I may not be given a choice. Though, if pressed, I would chose Snape over Dumbledore."

"It will be dinner time soon. Would you like me to stay, or would you prefer to eat alone?"

"If it's all the same to you, alone."

"That's fine. I shall spend the evening going over the roster, then, to see who must be handled and who might conceivably be set free. Send an elf should you need me for anything."

Harry nodded and watched as Tom rose and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

«« :: »»

"Fletcher is on duty tomorrow evening."

"Splendid. I expect there will be no trouble, then, slipping Harry back into the house. All he should need from you is an invisibility potion."

"He still has sufficient quantities of the potions I gave him earlier?"

Tom nodded and after eyeing Severus speculatively said, "He brought up an interesting point with me yesterday. He is well aware that Dumbledore may force him to continue with Occlumency lessons and stated a preference for you over the headmaster."

Severus sneered.

"I do not believe I betray anything when I say that."

Severus stared at him fixedly for a minute, then said, "Logic suggests the boy would feel that way." When Tom said nothing further, he added, "I suppose should it come to that I could not turn him away."

Tom smiled briefly in response and replied, "It is still a choice, Severus. It might be as simple an act as providing Harry refuge for a few hours each week so that he might escape Dumbledore's probings."

Severus arched his brow, then nodded.

Tom smiled a second time and slid a list across his desk. "Your opinion?" he asked, then watched in silence as Severus read through the names and the comments he had written beside each one.

Several minutes later Severus looked up and said, "I see no reason to disagree with your assessments. Though, how you plan to deal with some of them is beyond my immediate ken."

"Ways will present themselves, or we shall think of them. I, Harry, or you. So long as the right people go to the right places, I shall be satisfied. I need to do something about Peter and Bella soon, though."

"Send her out on a raid," suggested Severus in an odd drawl.

Tom gave him a patient look, knowing there must be more to it than the obvious. He was rewarded when Severus continued with, "Something you would trust only her with, because of her strength, her cunning, and so forth. And, if she were to unwittingly test a potion for you prior to her departure. . . ." Severus sneered and straightened, then said, "Of course, she failed you in the Department of Mysteries. She would not have escaped Azkaban, I believe, had you not arrived when you did. You could make an example of her."

Tom tilted his head to the side and considered. "You present an interesting idea. There are a number of Death Eaters who are getting more than a bit too bold. I could lose a few simply in the power struggle to fill her place, or many."

"Lucius is no longer at issue," Severus said abruptly. "Perhaps you could, as a show of faith, send Peter out with some of your more . . . special . . . people, such as Goyle, on some trifling task doomed to failure."

Tom quirked the corner of his mouth and gave Severus another speculative look. "And what are your thoughts on the Malfoy boy?"

"He blames Potter for the capture of his father," came the disdainful reply. "If you want my honest opinion, the boy is not very smart. Intelligent, yes, when it comes to certain things, but he is much too caught up in his own sense of importance. He lacks subtlety and resorts to childish methods to both provoke others and protect himself. He is a bully, with all that implies."

"How very interesting," Tom said thoughtfully. "And your thoughts on the boy as a Death Eater?"

"Poor. I have every reason to suspect that Lucius shielded him from reality and spoiled the boy rotten in all things that matter very little. He would come to you, puffed up with pride, and probably very enthusiastic about hurting people. The consequences of his first failure would blindside him. He might become dangerously unpredictable in that event."

"You are not certain if he wishes to enter Voldemort's service?"

"At the present time, I am certain only that he wishes to kill Potter."

"I see. Well, once Harry is back at Privet Drive, I will see about Bella and Peter. Draco is a different matter. Perhaps I should pay a visit to Narcissa. In any case, I should like you to check Harry over one final time. Tomorrow you can bring along that potion and we can escort him most of the way back to his home."

"As you wish."

The walk to Harry's room was short and silent. At the door, Tom paused only long enough to knock and receive an answer before opening it and entering, taking his customary chair near the bed. Severus produced his wand once through the door and stepped forward, saying, "Another scan, Potter."

"All right," Harry said agreeably enough, placing his book flat on his lap. Tom stifled a laugh when, once Severus was done and had pronounced his patient likely to survive the next ten minutes, Harry piped up with, "Thank you, professor. I do believe I prefer your bedside manner over that of Madam Pomfrey's incessant fussing."

Severus shot the boy a dark look and said, "Don't get used to it," then whirled and stalked out.

"I daresay you seem to be feeling better," Tom observed. "You should be able to return tomorrow evening. You can take along the remainder of the potions Severus left with you, and those books, of course." When Harry nodded he said, "Severus and I went over the roster. He appears to agree with my choices as regards the current list. However, he is concerned about Draco Malfoy, though naturally, he is not on it."

Harry arched a brow and said, "Draco wants to kill me." Then, "He's a depressing topic and I'd rather not talk about him."

Tom inclined his head. "Back to tomorrow evening, then. Would you like the snakes to be sent in first to make sure your family is soundly asleep for the night before you head back in? It worked well enough last time."

"All right. It would be one less thing to worry about. Thank you. I just hope Uncle Vernon didn't go ahead and burn everything while I've been gone."

"If he did, simply tell me. I'll arrange for your things to be replaced. Though, even with your family being leashed, as you put it, I doubt it would be wise to do anything about your clothing just yet. People may become more observant than we'd like." Tom paused, then said, "I see one major flaw with our overall plan, Harry. Let us assume that things do go to plan, and the more dangerous Death Eaters are incapacitated, while the others are released. The Ministry may yet see fit to imprison them even if their Dark Marks go missing."

"I understand that, but they would still have had the chance at freedom. If the Ministry ends up believing that the marks disappeared because of their real loyalties as a result of Voldemort's death, they may leave them alone. If not, we tried, right?"

Tom smiled. "So long as we're all being realistic. Though, Severus's lack of a Dark Mark may provide the extra nudge in that direction as he is well enough known to have been—"

A pop had both of them turning to see Dobby entering the room with a tray in his hands. "Master is to be eating lunch," said the elf firmly, advancing on the bed. After placing the tray across Harry's lap he stepped back and stared at Tom. "Is master's friend wanting lunch as well?"

Tom looked at Harry, who gave a slight nod, so Tom inclined his head at Dobby. "That would be nice, Dobby, thank you."

"Dobby is returning shortly." A second later he popped out.

Harry grabbed a sandwich from his tray and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as he stared at the bedcovers. Before Dobby had a chance to return he said, "He was able to enter Privet Drive before without tripping the wards."

"He is known to be quite fond of you?" Tom asked. Harry nodded and took another bite. "Then if I understand you aright, he would likely be another good guardian while you remain there."

"It wasn't until he deliberately tripped the wards that anything bad happened," Harry offered, then took a sip of his juice.

"So if he stayed mainly out of sight. . . ."

"Yeah."

Dobby popped back in with a second tray, which he presented to Tom with a toothy smile, then looked back at Harry. Harry, swallowing hastily, patted the spot next to him invitingly and had another sip of juice while the elf settled down on the bed. "Dobby, I've been wondering something."

Dobby perked his ears and looked at him attentively.

"Are you still able to enter and leave the house I live at on Privet Drive without setting off the wards?"

"Of course, master."

"Then you would be able to visit me while I'm still there," he affirmed. "And you could probably bring me anything I needed without tripping the wards?"

Dobby nodded vigorously.

"Are you able to do magic there safely? I mean, I know you were trying to get me in trouble that one time."

Dobby looked scandalized for a moment. "Dobby was trying to save master that time," he said reprovingly, then smiled toothily. "Dobby can do elf magic there."

"Dumbledore obviously never considered house elves in his grand protection plans," Tom said wryly.

Harry grinned. "Well that's great, Dobby. You'll be able to visit me daily, if necessary, and no one should be the wiser."

"Master has only to call and Dobby will come."

"What exactly did you tell my family again?" Harry asked Tom.

"To leave you alone, not bother you."

"So, in theory, I could have Dobby bring me my meals and only leave my room when I must."

"I don't see why not. He could get the necessary food from here. I don't know if the other elves would notice anything odd if he were to take it from Hogwarts, so it might be safer if he came here instead."

Harry turned his attention back to Dobby. "Does it bother you that my friend is the same person you were trying to save me from before?"

Dobby cast a strange look at Tom before answering. "If this is master's friend now, this is Dobby's friend. But Dobby will protect master, even from master's friend."

"That puts me in my place, then, doesn't it," said Tom with a slight smile.

"No one shall harm Dobby's master and friend," Dobby said firmly, nodding his head sharply.

"Mm, never argue with a determined house elf."

"You do realize," Harry said, "that back at Hogwarts you cannot be overheard calling me master, Dobby."

"Dobby knows."

"Did you find a nice place for the master portrait?"

"Dobby has, though Dobby could also place it on the underside of master's bed's canopy."

"Wouldn't people be able to notice it there, if they sat down and looked up?"

Dobby shook his head. "Only master would be seeing it since Dobby is being the one to put it there."

Harry blinked slowly, then said, "I suppose I could use privacy charms, and it would mean you wouldn't have to transport me back and forth. Less of a chance for people to notice I was missing and start asking awkward questions." He smiled at Dobby and nodded. "All right, the canopy it is, then."

"Dobby will take care of that today!" The elf bounced to his feet and popped out.

«« :: »»

Severus arrived the next evening with no new news. Dumbledore had not contacted him on either problems at Privet Drive, about Harry, or even about when Harry was to be removed from his family. Harry had sent out letters earlier in the day, including one to the Order, and had told Hedwig to return to him at Privet Drive when she was done.

After that, it was fairly simple. The three portkeyed to the neighborhood, though Harry was obviously reluctant to participate in that particular action, and crept closer to Harry's home under the cover of darkness. Once the snakes had returned, Tom handed over the lockpick, which Harry stowed in his pocket, and Severus handed over the potion with an admonition to remember it would wear off in just over an hour.

Harry downed it quickly, grimacing at the taste, then gave the two men a shaky smile before he faded from view. Moments later he was creeping down the narrow path between gardens, taking care to step quietly, and entered his own garden without issue. Wherever Dung was, he either wasn't paying attention, or was on the front side of the house.

Harry did need to use the lockpick on the garden door, and on the door to his bedroom. That he locked behind him the conventional way. The lockpick went under the floorboard, along with his wand, and Harry was pleased to see that his treasures were exactly where he had left them. After a resigned sigh, Harry opened the window so Hedwig could get in, then fell into bed.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	5. Introspection

* * *

**— 05: Introspection —**

* * *

Tom sat in a chair, thinking. He wasn't unduly annoyed that he had not slept terribly well, having already passed off the concern for Harry to the soul bond. However, having one did not equate with being in love. He cared about the boy's health, of course. Tom snorted softly and shook his head. Young man would be a better term. He could say he wanted to get to know Harry better, but a great deal of what made him who he was now was rooted in pain. Talking things out might help, and it might make things worse.

He also had to wonder if, had his own childhood been better, he would simply have become a bit mad, but relatively harmless, rather than the dark lord he had ended up as. He wondered why Severus had answered his call, even expecting death. He wasn't going to ask, though. Let the man retain his privacy. That didn't stop him from speculating on whether or not it was simply that Severus was tired of the game, and tired of being yanked in two directions, trusted by nearly no one.

Tom wondered about quite a lot of things, in point of fact, but his thoughts tended to circle right back around to Harry. It was true that he had done many evil things in his life, but one could not bring back the dead, or ever truly compensate those left behind. He wondered what Harry's thoughts would be on the expiation of his sins. He had the feeling, though, that no one with a modicum of intelligence and the willingness to see reality would ever view Harry as a child. They might wish it to be so, and actively deny what they knew to be true, but those things would not change what was.

And that brought him back to the concept of love. No one ever had, of course, loved him. Perhaps his mother. There was no way to know. In some respects, Tom imagined that Harry suffered from the same problem. Tom had plenty of people willing to abase themselves out of fear or respect, but he doubted that any of them actually liked him. Getting tortured for your mistakes tended to have that effect. After having had that revealing conversation with Harry, Tom had to think that there were very few people who simply liked Harry, rather than the image, the associations. The dreams of hangers-on could be quite persistent.

He supposed he would simply have to wait and see. In the meantime he could focus a healthy amount of his time on trying to get to know Harry, and perhaps learn what it actually meant to have a friend, one that stood by you for something other than the promise of power or for what services you could perform for them.

He could, however, pay a little visit to the Malfoy home.

«« :: »»

"Narcissa, how delightful to see you," he said, his voice lacking any particular inflection. Once he was seated in a comfortable chair and had a glass of wine to sip he said, "Something has come to my attention that I think we ought to discuss."

She gave him a wintry smile and replied, "As you wish, my lord."

"As you know, I have certain plans. A great number of plans, actually. And, I do not take kindly to anyone presuming to interfere with those plans. I understand that your son, Draco, has a bit of a problem with our dear Harry Potter," he said dryly.

"He is not fond of the boy, no, my lord," Narcissa said cautiously.

Tom—he appeared as Voldemort—arched one brow. "Who would be? Potter is an irritating menace who will be taken care of in due time. What concerns me, my dear, is that your son is getting ideas above his station. It would be a shame if I had to kill him, though, naturally I would have no hesitation in doing so if he vexed me." Tom could tell by the minute muscle shifts of her face and body that Narcissa was confused by his urbane manner. One presumably did not expect the Dark Lord to appear in one's home and deal out threats in a casual, offhand way.

"I am quite sure," he continued, "that Draco can amuse himself most fully by simply tormenting the boy. After all, if he were to presume to displace my very real ambition as regards the Potter brat, I am certain he would come to regret it most keenly. That is, if he had enough of a mind left to appreciate his error and repent before I killed him." Tom took a moment to glance down at his talon-like fingernails and heave a gentle sigh.

"I will certainly speak with him, my lord," she assured him.

Tom looked up and gave a slight smirk. "Mm. I expect you will. Let it not be said that I cannot occasionally be magnanimous, my dear. And I expect that your wise counsel will have the desired results. However, if that is not the case, you will be contacting me promptly."

"Of course, my lord."

"Splendid. Then I will take my leave."

Narcissa graciously escorted him out, and Tom returned to his own estate, faintly amused by the conversation they had shared, if one was inclined to give it that label. She was deferential, not obsequious, and he could appreciate that. She was also not unduly proud, merely confident and assured. Of course, she was not a Death Eater. She played, to all accounts, the dutiful wife in that regard. And while it might not have occurred to him in the past, he now idly wondered if she was pleased or dismayed that Lucius was currently enjoying a stay at Azkaban.

"Well," he murmured, "I have more important things to worry about." A vague plan had begun to form in the back of his mind regarding Peter, prompted by what Severus had said. While he could certainly see making an example of Bellatrix, and letting others scramble and vie for her position even unto death, Peter was another matter.

It might, in fact, be a wise choice to send Peter off to ostensibly retrieve Harry, or at least deal mayhem, and be the one to unknowingly drink something before departure that would assure his customary tendency toward failure was that much more pronounced. Peter was weak, mentally and magically, though he had performed admirably the few tasks of any real importance that Tom had given him. But then, those relied more on his nature. That he had managed to pull off those deaths might be more out of desperation than skill, though.

At any rate, he could certainly consider the idea, then perhaps discuss it with Harry that night in a vision. Given that Severus had suggested it, he was quite sure the man could come up with something suitable, subtle but potent. And the sooner he began to make amends, the better.

«« :: »»

Harry awoke, but did not open his eyes. Instead, he lay there for a while, thinking about the fact that Tom had let him go, even actively helped him. How much of it was expediency? He did not doubt that Tom trusted him, nor did he doubt that Tom strongly suspected that Harry knew the original prophecy. But, was that trust born of condescension? Tom had decades of experience, vast amounts of knowledge. In truth, just how much trouble could one boy be to such a man?

Was it that time and destiny had merely lifted Voldemort up from the depths of madness, brought him out of such a focused state of retribution that he had not been thinking clearly? It had been said more than once that Tom, as a student, had been brilliant. Was it, in fact, an elaborate trap? One with even more subtlety than the dreams of the Ministry?

Harry sighed heavily and rolled onto his side. He wanted to believe, badly. He wanted to trust in Tom's seeming sincerity. If it was a trap, though, was Snape just as much the fool as he was? Harry had not actually seen proof of the man's release. Was Snape holding back his desire to salivate over the eventual fate of Harry Potter by sheer force of will, waiting on the fruition of his master's possible grand scheme?

Harry blinked open his eyes and sighed again, feeling very uncertain and unsure.

And if he was—what then? Would it be so easy to forgive the man his crimes? Tom certainly appeared willing to try to set things straight, as much as he could. But could Harry learn to like him, even love him? The book on soul bonds had been an interesting read. He was well aware that destiny, or perhaps fate, decreed that he belonged with Tom, and not in a brotherly sense. As a system of checks and balances, though, it left some few things to be desired. Harry couldn't quite wrap his mind around a personification of fate messing up so badly as to leave his birth so late, or Tom's so early.

If that was the intention, then could he actually blame Tom for having killed his parents? And, where did prophecy originate if not from fate?

He rolled his eyes and sat up. He only had two choices. He could spill all to Dumbledore and trust that the man was who he presented himself as, or he could give that trust to Tom on the strength of prophecy and the bond. Frankly, that many of the Order members were trying so desperately to keep him ignorant made Tom's attitude quite attractive and seductive. And yet, everyone was so happy when he managed each time to perform what should have taken an adult to do. It was never said outright, but it was there.

Sounds filtered into his thoughts, making Harry aware that his family was also rising. He felt very glad that he had locked his door, but wished he felt completely secure in Tom's control over them. The idea of slipping outside his room to visit the loo made him distinctly nervous. It served to highlight the weaknesses he had, the threads of cowardice he could not entirely eradicate. He wondered if this was how Tom had felt at the orphanage.

Once he heard the last of footsteps headed down to the ground floor, he hauled himself to his feet and crossed to the door, quietly unlocking, then opening it. A few minutes later he was back in his room, quite all right. He supposed that if he got into a sticky situation he could call Dobby to his aid. And on that note, he concentrated. Dobby popped into the room seconds later.

"Master is needing something?"

"Dobby, do you think you could toss together something for me to have as breakfast, please?"

"Dobby is being happy to. Dobby is being back shortly."

"Thank you."

Dobby popped out, so Harry sat down at his desk. With a start he realized he had not thought once of Sirius over the past several days. There were so many things he could think about that, about him, and he was still inclined to believe that he had his own share of blame to bear, though his surety of how much was currently in question.

Speaking with Tom on certain matters was enough to push his brain into seeing things from a slightly different perspective. It was true that Dumbledore had kept him in dark on why he would not meet his eyes. Harry freely admitted that he hadn't understood, made the connection. That Dumbledore held the suspicion that a reborn Voldemort could use Harry in that way, though. . . .

It must be quite convenient that Harry had learned early not to ask questions of authority, generally speaking. It had not been until he had stepped into the wizarding world that he had even felt he could—that is, without being verbally slapped down for the mere presumption. The headmaster's suspicions had certainly been confirmed when Harry had joined with Voldemort and Nagini, then later when he had shared the man's rage on looking into Dumbledore's eyes.

Still, as he himself had said to Tom, there was such a thing as trust for trust. Dumbledore had left him in the dark, and he had done the same in kind. That he was not alone in responsibility made him feel a slight sense of relief, but it did not absolve him of his mistakes. Sirius was also to blame for his lack of forethought, or at least his lack of understanding of Harry's basic nature. Even then, it was not as though he'd had much opportunity to relieve his ignorance directly.

And then, a thought struck Harry. Were he to reverse the situation, he had no doubt that Sirius would feel just as lousy, just as guilty, and just as conflicted over the entire situation, even if he did believe that Harry was safely up in . . . heaven? Safely with his parents, at any rate. He knew what he would have had to say to Sirius. Harry would have tried to convince Sirius that he was not to blame, to look back fondly on the time they had had together.

Harry had every expectation that, were Sirius to be given just five minutes with him, he would be hearing much the same. And then he remembered what Sirius had said on the night he and Hermione had broken him free of the tower.

With another start Harry realized that he had not been exactly aware that Dobby had long since returned with his meal, and indeed, that he had actually eaten it without thought and without even tasting it. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, noticing immediately that his trunk was right where he had left it. Apparently his uncle's fear of wizard folk was too deep to have actually gone through with his muttered threat.

At least it was one less thing to worry about. He felt obscurely nervous about the upcoming year. How should one react to the knowledge that your dire enemy was currently trying to sidle into your life as a friend and eventual lover? How should one react to the marked difference in not only appearance but also manner?

The person he had known over the past few days—Tom, not Voldemort—had a dry wit and obvious intelligence. He hadn't spared himself, either, in sarcastic speech, nor hidden his reactions to Harry's own words, accusatory as they could be. And while he lacked any sense of shyness over discussing some of the harsher realities, he had backed off a number of times when Harry had not wanted to discuss something. All of it could be taken either way: a slow trap, or sincerity.

Again, Harry wanted to believe, with almost desperate need, that Tom was being honest. It all made his head want to explode.

«« :: »»

The room this time was cozy rather than bare and contained a matching set of squashy chairs. Harry, on his arrival, immediately sat down and cast an opaque look at him.

"I trust that everything went well today?"

Harry nodded, though it was more of an odd tilt of his head. After a moment he said, "I was wondering something."

"All right."

"If you feel like telling me, how did you feel at the orphanage? Were you . . . scared? Of the people around you?"

"Yes, I was, but also quite angry."

Harry quirked up one brow. "Angry because you could not use magic? Angry because you could not, perhaps, use physical force?"

Tom shrugged slightly. "Both, I suppose. But, it isn't as though I ever made great strides toward becoming apt at hand-to-hand combat, either. I thought magic could solve anything, or should be able to. Not being able to use it was frustrating, vexing. After all, who would have believed me when they came to investigate? I was in Slytherin. That was all anyone needed or wanted to know. And, of course, prior to Hogwarts, I knew nothing of magic."

Harry chuckled, though it sounded rather flat to his ears. "I still don't know. . . . Well, I often wonder if I made the right decision."

"On?"

"Am I really a Gryffindor?" Harry asked. "Sometimes I think I should be in Hufflepuff."

Tom blinked. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain that?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess it's all a matter of strengths. I'm brave, I guess, but also reckless. I don't always think about something before I charge on ahead. Then again, I do think I'm fairly intelligent, though I don't always focus on my studies, and I think I'm loyal where it's warranted. But, I can be fairly. . . . Well, I dunno. I'm not quite sure how I'd characterize the Slytherin bits. But still, if you have all the qualities, why not Hufflepuff? It seems as though they are the only balanced house. The others are distinctly skewed."

Tom considered that for several moments. "I suppose you could look at it that way. Perhaps the hat saw your Gryffindor traits as being the strongest, knocking you out of balance. But, what decision are you referring to?"

Harry smiled. "Which house to be placed in. Gryffindor wasn't its first choice, Tom. And, I have no idea if that was due to me alone, or because of what you did to me."

Tom was getting quite curious, and certainly suspicious. "Then you must be referring to Slytherin."

"Yes. It said, I think, that I had quite a thirst to prove myself. It also implied very strongly that I had all the qualities that any good Slytherin would need."

"All right. Then I presume you are wondering just how much of an effect my attempt to kill you actually had. If the sorting hat would have even considered the idea otherwise." On seeing Harry nod he said, "Personally, I don't think it did, but, if you're willing to tell me, just what effect or effects do you think it might have had?"

"Dumbledore says I'm a parselmouth because of you. He thinks you transferred some of your power to me that night."

Tom shook his head. "I still don't think so. Yes, being a parselmouth is considered a dark trait, but generally only because it can go hand-in-hand with dark wizards, and even dark lords. Surely, Salazar himself would have treasured the ability for those in his house. But in and of itself? It's simply an ability. Serpents are no more evil than any other creature. Dementors and the like would be exceptions, of course. As for the possibility of power, what of it? Power is also neutral. It takes will and intent to make it good or evil, Harry."

Harry gave him a thoughtful look, then said, "Nature versus nurture?"

Tom chuckled. "Always an interesting argument, I'm sure. You could argue that our backgrounds parallel. That may be one reason. But it doesn't entirely explain why we ended up in different houses. I can only assume you rejected the placement, though I wasn't aware that the sorting hat could be argued with."

Harry nodded. "I did. Between what I had already heard, and having met Malfoy, twice, I wasn't inclined to agree with the hat's assessment. I thought it would mean I would become. . . ." He shrugged. "I guess it depends on one's definition of terms such as ambitious and cunning."

"Do you think that Slytherins as a whole are dark or evil?"

Harry shrugged again and ruffled his hair. "Dark is a grey area. But, no, I don't. In that much, I'm not blinded by crowd mentality, at least not any longer. It's difficult, though, because those I tend to notice on a regular basis are those that do their best to make my life miserable. The rest just . . . fade into the background. People like to conveniently forget that Peter was a Gryffindor, those that know of his actions, anyway."

"Then what might be your definition of dark?"

"Somewhere in the middle, I guess. The discipline doesn't matter so much as achieving the desired results. Though, by that definition, that kind of person would be on the good side of, er. . . . Well, not evil."

"Let me ask you this, then. Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that I was even now trying to kill you. The wizarding world expects that you will defeat me. How? I hardly think besting me two games out of three at Exploding Snap quite fits the bill."

"Yes, I see your point. By that definition, I would be classed as dark. Still, how does Dumbledore fit in, then? Did he use a trip jinx on Grindelwald at cliff's edge? He's considered a very upright sort."

"I don't think he had a smear campaign being waged against him, Harry," Tom said gently. That earned him a humorless smile. "At any rate, I'm not sure you would have lasted in Slytherin, at least not as you are today. More or less my fault, of course."

"I'm not sure I understand. And, I don't want to hear about blame."

"All right. You might have been knifed in your sleep, for one thing. But the distinction I'm referring to is that if you had adapted, it might have completely changed your personality. You would very likely be cold, hard, and closed off, and possibly a little too free with your wand, all in an effort to protect yourself not only from your house mates, but from the other houses combined."

Harry's brow furrowed, then smoothed. "And do those in Slytherin house pry? Interfere?"

"Generally speaking? I would say only if they felt a member was doing something to shame the house. Otherwise, your life is your own. After all, it is hardly a well known—"

Harry looked at him sharply. "That you're a half blood? Like me. Yes, that would have been inconvenient. Then you should know that Bellatrix is aware of that detail, if you didn't already."

Tom was about to speak when Harry shook his head and said, "This is difficult."

"Why no blame?"

"I'm not sure I want to answer that at present. Anyway, I felt nervous today, scared even. Knowing they were just outside the door. Wanting to believe that it would be all right. People would laugh, I know. But, as you pointed out, I've had a smear campaign against me. If I used magic to protect myself, I seriously wonder if Fudge would find a way to force my expulsion. He already tried because of the dementors. So I wondered about how you might have felt yourself, back then. Poor Potter, can't even fend off muggles." His voice was shaded with bitterness and self-mockery.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I wish you could believe me when I say we'll find a way to work all of these things out."

"And if they do?" Harry asked. "If they do, how much of myself do I lose? You're quite a bit older than I."

"And you're quite a bit older than most, mentally. But if I'm hearing the real question, I would say not much, if anything. Yes, you would change, adapt, even as I must. That doesn't mean one person dominates the other."

Harry gave him a sad smile. "I don't know who to trust anymore."

"Yourself, for starters."

"Really? Did you know—that night you sent Nagini to the Ministry. I felt the same sadistic pleasure you did. I enjoyed it. And when I looked at Dumbledore. Later, I felt dirty, disgusted with myself."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"No blame! No apologies!" he shouted, half rising from his chair, then sinking down. "Sorry doesn't make it unhappen. Sorry doesn't help me to understand myself any better."

Tom sat back and closed his eyes briefly. "You were carried along, Harry, an unwilling passenger. You felt what I felt at the time, what Nagini felt. That in no way translates to you having those feelings personally. I used you, partially possessed you, to see through your eyes at times. If you successfully cast Imperio on your aunt and command her to beat a child, is it her fault that she obeys?"

"No," Harry said softly, eyes downcast.

"Is it your fault that you unwittingly experienced my own feelings and desires, then? That I overwhelmed you with greater experience? Do you truly believe yourself capable of such feelings?"

There was a decided pause before Harry said, "No." Several minutes later—Tom opted to remain silent—Harry said, "It doesn't hurt any longer, you know. Not since my birthday. I have to wonder if Dumbledore is clueless, or just a liar. If this scar is just that. If you hurt me simply because the bond was perverted, twisted."

"That is possible. Your scar is unique, given the circumstances under which it was obtained. You may be correct. It may be nothing more than a disfigurement."

After another short pause Harry looked up and said, "Apparently, Uncle Vernon was too intimidated, even after I was locked away, to burn my things."

"That is good news. However, I am indecisive as to how to react to your statement about Dumbledore."

"Why?"

"Because it's about truth and trust, and I am not the right person to explain much of anything about Dumbledore. I am indecisive because you're losing your balance and I'm not sure how to help. You are, perhaps, developing your own set of questions about the man, your own suspicions. And, while I may be glad to see that you are not blindly following any one person's lead, and indeed feel enough fire to stand up for yourself, I am also saddened that it's causing you such distress. Yes, a person can survive without trusting anyone. I did. But that's all it is. Survival."

"Sad? Because of the bond."

Tom shook his head. "I've done some reading of my own, Harry. I may be bound to you, but I am not compelled to like you. If we were to come to an understanding, it would be because we wished it. Yes, I know that neither of us would be happy with another because of it, but nothing forces us to be more than . . . acquaintances."

"Just checking."

Tom gave a slight nod. "I think, perhaps, you questioned because you do know."

Harry smiled faintly. "Yes. It was very kind of you to reveal that you researched this on your own."

Tom couldn't help the grin that flashed across his face. "Would you like to continue talking, or would you prefer to return to sleep?"

Harry sighed. "Sleep. Will you be visiting again tomorrow?"

"If that is agreeable, then yes."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Tom nodded, smiled, then relaxed his control on the vision.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	6. Decisions

* * *

**— 06: Decisions —**

* * *

It occurred to Tom that Harry had given him a very important piece of information. Granted, Bellatrix had failed him at the Ministry, and that was reason enough for a madman to have her killed. But Harry had mentioned her knowledge of his heritage, and that too was reason enough for her death. Though, not until after he had forced the truth out of her on the subject of whether or not she had told others. And, not knowing who else might have been present, she could tell him that as well.

It was true that he had had no choice in his parents. It wasn't as though he himself could be blamed for the fact that his father had been a muggle, though he would not put it past some of his followers to take that information and use it as an excuse to attempt an uprising. Better that they die, those already not in Azkaban, and have done with it. Expedient, to be sure, but also wise. He did not fancy the idea of single-handedly cutting down a horde of rebellious followers banded together for a common purpose against him.

On the other hand, he had agreed to turn Bella over to the Ministry. He would have to bring it up that evening.

Harry's insistence on no blame made sense in a peculiar way. He was right—sorry was meaningless in itself, and blame hardly needed to be assigned when both of them knew well where it belonged on most matters. He sighed. Things had been so much simpler as a dark lord. One certainly didn't have to concern oneself with pesky things like empathy, sadness, morality, and the purer forms of desire.

He didn't expect to hear from Narcissa. The threat alone should be enough to cause the child to back down, especially if it was his ambition to join Voldemort when he gained adult status. However, that presented a new set of problems. Draco was only sixteen, if that, with two years left to his schooling. Tom had no doubt that there were others his age, or possibly even younger, who wished to join.

Could he drag things out for two years, continuing to present the idea that Voldemort was powerful and always looking toward the building of his empire? By then, how many more would seek Voldemort's direction and leadership? Should Voldemort make the radical move of recruiting early? Those children could become a different kind of spy network, seeking out and identifying those in other houses who truly wished to join. They would, of course, need to report to Severus.

And, as much as he disliked on principle the idea of running most of his plans past Harry, he realized that he must in order to continue to show his sincerity and trust, not to mention his willingness to not keep him in the dark. Any other policy would turn Harry from him easily. He could not help but think a second time that it had been much easier as a dark lord.

It was, perhaps, unfortunate that he could not drag Severus into the visions. He rubbed his forehead, then removed the silver ring from his right hand and set about sending Severus an invitation.

«« :: »»

Severus swept into his study masked and cloaked, pausing long enough to divest those before taking a seat. "You wished to see me?"

"I trust you were not occupied with anything critical, as I expect you would not have arrived so quickly," Tom said.

Severus shook his head. "I was reading."

Tom nodded and smiled faintly. "I've been thinking. Given that I am unwilling to involve Dumbledore in any of this directly, it occurs to me that two years is a long time. I've been considering the radical idea of recruiting those still at Hogwarts. However, there are good and bad points to that particular concept. It is true that they could be a secondary layer of spies within the school, reporting to you, but it might also give the impression that Voldemort is gaining enough in strength as to be bold enough to do so. On the other hand, waiting until they come of age means that none of this is resolved any time soon, and requires me to come up with an increasing number of plans with which to dispose of troublesome followers. And it might mean that those same children, if not recruited, may seek to rise up in Voldemort's place when he is gone."

Severus gave him a thoughtful look, then spoke slowly. "Recruiting those so young may also give the impression that the Dark Lord is somewhat . . . desperate." He paused, then continued, "On the other hand, it could mean that those students might find themselves expelled, if someone were to mention a rumor they conveniently overheard. That would remove them from Potter's daily life, and I am not sure if they would find places at either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang."

"Yes, of course. I've always wanted to set up a private college," Tom said dryly. "That does bring up a point. Severus, what is it exactly that you do for Dumbledore?"

"Spy, though not in the same manner as before. That would be impossible, naturally. Some Death Eaters tend to be quite careless in what they say, though those are generally lesser ranked. Of course, as they are not aware that I am listening. . . . I also gather information from those who are ambivalent, or through a chain of people as passed down from someone actually in the Dark Lord's ranks."

"About what I expected, then. A rumor should be no particular issue, should I choose to go that route. Granted, I would prefer to simply have this over and done with, but Harry does have a good point. It would be prudent to sweep up the remainder of those decided first."

"And have you discussed this with Potter yet?" Snape couldn't quite keep a sneer from revealing itself.

"I'll do that tonight. I'd like to know how he'd feel if Peter was caught in an attempt to capture him. How is the response time of the Order, anyway?"

"It has never come up insofar as Potter is concerned. Not at that house, that is."

Tom snorted and gestured. "Yes, and those protections are so very sound. Though, I expect Peter would set off the wards by using Alohomora on the front door. It would be best to know who was on duty that night so that he didn't get very far. People might consider that Voldemort didn't much care for his welfare considering that Black is already dead and can no longer be exonerated by Peter's capture to any lasting effect. A slap in the face, if you will."

"Such an attack would have the effect of Potter being removed almost immediately."

Tom glanced up at the ceiling, then said, "You may call me Tom, Severus. As it is, I am somewhat amused that we're talking about me in the third person. Would you be willing to act as contact?"

"Yes. Despite the fact that it must be obvious to a number of people that I am no longer actively in the Dark Lord's service, the children appear to believe I am very much at his side. I can only speculate that some believe I am working at an even deeper level than before. Ostensibly outcast, but in reality very much a mole or sleeper."

"Splendid. Do you have anything offhand that would suit as a potion to befuddle dear Peter?"

Severus nodded. "I can provide something that will slow down his reaction time unobtrusively. Also those of whoever goes with him. It is even tasteless, so there would be no suspicion."

"All right. I'll see what Harry thinks, then."

Severus sneered openly.

"I know you don't like him, Severus, but that is more or less irrelevant, is it not? The most I expect you to have to do is provide refuge occasionally. Though, if you took the time to look more closely, you would realize he is very much a Slytherin in nature, a chameleon."

"That boy is the most Gryffindorish Gryffindor I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Tom chuckled. "I'm not asking you to like him. I am asking for your continued cooperation. Though, naturally, I would prefer you not humiliate him in public. Given that he is not taking Potions, I expect that won't be difficult for you."

"You don't feel that you're excessively indulging him? Letting him walk all over you?"

"Right now I'm not willing to do anything to undermine his very shaky trust in me, Severus. That is not to say I won't disagree with him or let him be anything more than an equal. There are a lot of things neither of us have experienced, so we can learn together. More than that, I cannot say, as it would be a betrayal."

Severus shook his head slowly. "I won't pretend to fully understand."

"I won't keep you any longer, then. Once I have a better idea on direction, we'll finalize some details."

"I will let you know if anything interesting turns up insofar as Dumbledore or the Order."

«« :: »»

Harry spent the day in near solitude, speaking only with Dobby when he came to deliver meals. He otherwise occupied his time in study or in completing his holiday work. He was feeling rather determined, having admitted certain weaknesses to Tom, to do better in his classes. When he actually laid down for sleep, he was feeling fairly good about his progress for the day.

The room was much the same as before, with two squashy chairs that did not quite face each other. Harry took a seat as soon as he registered his surroundings and leaned back, giving Tom an only slightly guarded look. "Things went well today."

"They left you alone, you mean."

"Yeah. But I'll be glad to know you'll be reinforcing the suggestions tomorrow. I can't help being nervous now. I mean, aside from a few oddities in the past, which don't exactly count, I've never been repeatedly beaten. I'm not sure I've ever felt that helpless. I don't like that I feel this way, but I do."

"I take it that you don't think Dumbledore would necessarily take you seriously if you were to tell him what happened?"

"Well, aside from the fact that he'd want to know why Uncle Vernon just . . . stopped, not really. I tend to think he'd believe I was overreacting, exaggerating." He shrugged. "Maybe I'm being unkind, I don't know. Like I said, I'm not sure who to trust now."

Tom nodded, but didn't comment on that directly. "There are a few things I wanted to discuss this evening. Most importantly, Peter and Bella, though."

"All right. Your plans?"

"It had occurred to me that I had agreed to turn Bella over to the Ministry. However, several things make me want to do something a little different. Specifically, Severus pointed out that she did, in fact, fail Voldemort at the Ministry that night. And you pointed out that she knows I'm a half blood. Some of my people have become rather too bold of late, and I have to wonder if part of that may be because they're aware of that fact. Perhaps not, but. . . ."

"So what do you want to do about her?" Harry already had a good idea, but he wanted to actually hear it.

"I'd like to kill her outright, for both those reasons. And find out before I do how many others are aware of that information so I can deal with them as well. The last thing I need right now is for a subset of the Death Eaters to attempt to overthrow me and take over the reins. And, with her dead, others will no doubt find it amusing to fight each other for the right to take her place."

Harry let his eyes drift away to the right. It was true that while Bellatrix had been involved in the death of Sirius, she had not technically killed him. Had Sirius not been standing in front of the veil at the time, he might yet be alive. It was simply good luck on her part. He also supposed that Tom meant, by his words on the vacuum of power, that others would potentially pick each other off in the attempts to ascend to her former place. That particular kind of reasoning was foreign to him personally, though he could see how it might apply.

"All right. I don't object, if that's what you wish to do. I will point out that most of the people with her when I mentioned that particular detail are already in Azkaban, though, she might have told others."

Tom arched a brow, then nodded. "Then we'll move on to Peter. I realize that his capture will not bring back your godfather, but in this case I suppose a nice long stay in Azkaban would be preferable to a quick death."

Harry interrupted. "Speaking of which, what about the dementors? And do we even know that Azkaban can contain an animagus? Sirius escaped that way, so why not Peter."

Tom frowned slightly. "No, we don't. I could release the dementors back to Azkaban, but that does not mean the Ministry will believe they are sincere in their wish to return to their previous duties. It is entirely likely they will believe it is some kind of plot. I shall have to think further on them. If Lucius were not already incarcerated, I could have forced him to drop a subtle word in Fudge's ear on the subject of animagi, but that is no longer possible."

"What did you have in mind, anyway?"

"I was going to ask you if you'd mind Peter being captured in an attempt to secure you, actually. With the right inhibitors, Peter wouldn't get very far."

"Inhibitors?"

"I have little doubt that he would do something abysmally foolish such as trip the wards almost as soon as he got there. However, there is also the matter of waiting until the right sort of Order member was on watch duty, as well as making sure that Peter and his companions had taken a little something unwittingly before they headed out. Your objection is valid, though."

"How did you get the dementors to abandon Azkaban?"

"I offered them what they want. In Azkaban they were prevented from feeding freely. Now they feed as they please, so long as they do not touch my forces."

"And how is that different from—well, actually, I don't know all _that_ much about dementors. I can't imagine they were always the guardians of Azkaban. They must have roamed freely at one point, right? If they're supposed to infest dark, filthy places, I can understand Azkaban, but surely that can't be it."

Tom tilted his head to the side and back. "Then you already realize that they'd be free to feed on anyone, wizard or muggle."

"Of course. If they're already out there, releasing the ones you have won't necessarily make much difference. On the other hand, nothing says Fudge wouldn't take them back at face value. He'd possibly say something silly like they deserted you. Unless, of course, you know how to actually destroy them. Without emotions to feed off, can they starve?"

"Advocating genocide, are we?" Tom asked with a slight smirk.

Harry shrugged. "I could as easily say send them all to Siberia. How does it go—not in my back yard?"

"I will consider it and get back to you. It may simply be that when Voldemort is no more, they would be accepted back easily. Peter, however. . . ."

Harry sighed. "Maybe I should have let Sirius kill him. But then, if I had, we wouldn't be sitting here talking." He noted peripherally that Tom brightened a touch at that, though Tom's next words had him wondering if he had interpreted the reason correctly.

"Which is more important to you, Harry? That your godfather's name is cleared and Peter is in Azkaban, or that Peter dies in turn for his actions."

Harry furrowed his brow, remaining silent for at least a minute. "That depends. Do I want justice, or do I want retribution? Death is payment enough. Is it being sadistic to want him to suffer for a while first? If you can't guarantee that he can't escape by transforming, then I suppose I would have to be realistic and expedient and say kill him. I don't especially like thinking about it, though. Maybe I'd prefer Azkaban because that's punishment without dirtying one's hands. But that could be, as I said, considered sadistic." He shrugged a shoulder and looked at Tom directly. "I don't like hurting people, and either choice results in someone's pain. Same as with Bella."

"The decision is yours, Harry, even if your decision is to leave it up to me. If you don't wish to say just yet, it can wait. I simply want you to be aware that I am trying to work toward a resolution as far as he goes."

Harry pulled up one leg and rested his foot on the chair, wrapping his arms around his knee and dropping his chin. "A fire would be nice next time," he said absently.

"I can arrange that."

"You said the property would go to Andromeda without a will?"

"Yes," Tom affirmed.

"Has anyone else had their property confiscated?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but with Fudge in office, one cannot be certain it could not happen."

"Do you think people go to heaven when they die, or hell?"

Tom blinked. "I'm not sure what to think."

Harry lifted his head for a moment and said, "I was just thinking, if they do, then what would my parents think if—maybe in this case, expediency is wiser. Nothing fancy, no torture, just death. They died because of him, he dies for them."

"If that's what you'd prefer."

He shrugged slightly, dropping his chin again, and said, "Yes."

"There is another thing I wanted to bring up."

"What is it?"

"We discussed earlier recruitment. As it stands, you know that I do not recruit below a certain age. However, that presents its own set of complications. If I wait, that will definitely extend things for at least two years, which certainly means that we have two more years for people to decide to choose Voldemort. If I did not recruit them before this ends, they may seek to create a new dark lord from their number."

"Go on."

"If recruited now, they could act as spies just as the portraits, and report to Severus in that case. He has agreed to act as contact if that should happen. He has also agreed to overhear certain things which may result in all students being checked for the Dark Mark and possible expulsions."

"On a personal level, I'm more worried about Draco. Though, he's never been all that effective. All he normally seems to come up with are trite, repetitive insults. But, he might be an issue this year." He lifted his head again and gazed at Tom curiously. "Voldemort recruiting early—is that a show of strength and confidence, or desperation and fear?"

"Either. If strength, then more will make up their minds more quickly. If fear, then more will have second thoughts about submitting to that domination."

"You'd still—well, maybe not. I guess if you said at the end of the year things were over, which is the usual time for Voldemort to come after me—" Harry shook his head. "I don't know if it matters. People would either think that Voldemort was a pussycat in the end to be taken down by little old me, or scared out their wits that I managed it. If the former, someone else might rise. But, that wouldn't necessarily be our problem, right? There can't be a bloody prophecy connected to every dark lord," he said with some exasperation tingeing his tone.

Tom grinned. "Well, Harry, I'd say no matter how that plays out, you deserve a nice long holiday out of the country once this is over."

"That would be nice," he said a bit wistfully. "Shouldn't we wait on that until the portraits have a chance to report something?"

"Another valid point. Here is something else to consider, for your benefit alone." Tom had what looked to be a sincere expression of concern, faint as it was. "Assume this is over at the end of the school year. You would have a year left at Hogwarts in which to see how the wizarding world treated you. Perhaps that would make it easier for you to decide whether or not you wished to disappear, fake your death, or if you preferred to remain. Regardless of which, I would have to assume a new identity."

Harry gave him a faint smile. "Point for you."

"Are we keeping score?" Tom asked with an amused look.

Harry smirked. "I don't know. I'd say something silly like whoever loses each week has to cook, but I rather think Dobby would kick us out of whatever kitchen."

Tom brightened again slightly, leading Harry to think it had been because he was referring to them together, not because he was advocating death. Still, how much of it was deliberate, and how much was unconscious reaction? He wondered if Tom would consent to letting him use veritaserum on him. Then he wondered how he would get his hands on any and know it was verified as genuine by an independent source. After giving Tom a speculative look he said, "I wonder. We're supposed to save each other? All that's happened so far is you saved me."

Tom tilted his head. "I assume that will become clear in time."

"I don't count the graveyard in any sense. After all, you originally lost your body because of me, indirectly, and regained it because of me, indirectly. I was involved both times, at any rate. They cancel each other out."

"An interesting way to look at it, but all right."

"Am I going to be forced to watch through your eyes when you deal with Bella and Peter?" Much as Harry would like to take those experiences as proof of fidelity, he knew they could, in truth, be as deceptive as the dreams of the Ministry and the fake vision he had been sent of Sirius.

"Not sure. I expect to feel some satisfaction in dealing with them." Tom paused and gave him an intense look. "You might consider that a test of how well you've been absorbing Occlumency. If you can block Peter's death, fine. If not, I may need to take care of Bella in a more subtle manner."

"Mm. Definitely incentive."

"Harry, do you feel like explaining what you meant about your friends, and how your image affects them?"

Though the question was casual, Harry got the distinct impression that Tom was genuinely curious. "Imagine that I was just any other person. We might not be as close, for one thing. Then again, I might not have lied so much to Hermione or dodged her questions. Ron might not keeping getting envious of me. Hermione might not press to hear everything I'm thinking. I do believe they try not to let it interfere, but I don't think our friendship would be at all the same as it is now. So much is tied up in who I am, that some things are skewed all out of proportion. We've lied, flaunted authority, exploited people based on their natures, committed illegal acts. . . ."

Harry dropped his foot to the floor and leaned back into the embrace of his chair. "Because of who I am, Ron has a hard time believing me when I say certain things. Ron and Hermione wouldn't have been at odds for an entire year. On the other hand, they try so very hard most of the time to be supportive, and to help me even when it goes against their own better judgment or exposes their fears. Yes, we fight sometimes, but they're loyal. This year, I don't know. In theory, there won't be any mystery, no bad guy lurking around the corner. Not unless we manufacture a plan for that. So how will things change between us? I just wonder sometimes if so much of it is tied up with Voldemort that we might drift apart without him around. Not"—he shot a dark look at Tom—"that I'm saying I'd like to keep him."

Tom chuckled.

"I just don't always feel like I can be honest with them. They shouldn't have to bear all my burdens, but even beyond that, I'm not sure if they could appreciate or understand what you might call the Slytherin aspects of me. The fact that I'm in Gryffindor. . . ."

Tom arched a brow. "Illegal activities?"

Harry shrugged. "Theft, improper use of a time turner, aiding and abetting the escape of a convicted criminal, blackmail, extortion maybe, illegal entry, destruction of Ministry property, an unforgivable . . . and probably half a dozen other things I can't think of offhand."

Tom grinned outright. "You are quite a trio, aren't you."

"Flattery may not get you anywhere, Tom," Harry said dryly.

"Am I being a bad influence?" Tom asked teasingly.

Harry snorted. "Is the Dark Mark only for summoning?"

Tom blinked at the change in subject, then said, "No. Death Eaters can use theirs to let me know they wish to report. I can also use it to induce pain, though that's a rarely used aspect. Of course, as a summoning device, it provides Death Eaters with a way to aparate to any location, regardless of visualization. That is how Severus could come to me the night I took you even though he had never been to that estate."

Harry nodded absently.

"Why?"

Harry shook his head. "Just something in the back of my head. I have plenty of time to think lately since they aren't forcing a list of chores on me every day. Can it be modified to do more?"

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"I'd have to think about it. What did you have in mind?"

Harry flicked his eyes to the side, then gazed at Tom thoughtfully. "I'm not sure yet. To use an example, though, you say it can induce pain. Is that only the single person? Or can it be induced in all bearers, or a selective group?"

Tom furrowed his brow. "You have a strange mind, Harry. It does function that way for summoning."

"Okay. If you were to make a change, would you have to alter each and every Dark Mark, or could you simply change the structure of the spell itself used to place one and have it affect all of them? Or, devise a method whereby . . . uh, someone walks through a spelled doorway and it reconfigures the mark if it hasn't been already?"

Tom frowned in concentration, letting his eyes drop to the floor. Several minutes later he raised his head and said, "You have a _very_ strange mind, Harry. I think so, though."

"All right. Do you have to come into direct contact with them to reinforce your will? My family, I mean."

Tom shook his head. "Just nearby. Near enough."

"When do you plan on dealing with Peter?"

"Tomorrow evening at the earliest."

"Then I will attempt to block you during that time period. Either it will work and you can 'visit' me the next night, or I'll be watching, and I expect you'll be aware of it."

"Does that mean you're ready for normal sleep now?"

"If you would be so kind, yes."

Tom nodded, smiled, then said, "As you wish."

A moment later, everything went black.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	7. Information

* * *

**— 07: Information —**

* * *

Tom was up bright and early, idly going over plans in his mind during breakfast of how he should deal with Peter. Harry didn't want torture to be involved, so it had to be something relatively simple, such as a quick killing curse. Perhaps poison, though not one that would cause actual pain. Given how much time Peter spent stuffing his face simply for the sake of eating, it was an option to add a little something extra that would give him a painless death.

On the other hand, something of that nature wouldn't be much of a test for Harry's skills at Occlumency. Tom shrugged and had another piece of bacon. The killing curse it would be, then. With that out of the way he finished his meal and got ready to visit Privet Drive.

As before, he lurked across the street for a while before deciding to act, waiting to see if the Order member on duty would realize he was there. When nothing untoward occurred after twenty minutes he sent out a series of mental commands to Harry's cousin, reinforcing what he had already ordered. He spared a moment to grimace, remembering what the boy looked like, and prepared to move on to Harry's aunt.

Therefore, he was surprised to hear a tentative voice in his mind.

_:Tom?:_

He made the logical assumption that it must be Harry, especially given what had happened previously. So he focused his thoughts—perhaps he had been thinking a little too strongly about the cousin—and attempted to reply.

_:Hello, Harry.:_

_:Are you . . . reinforcing things? Where are you?:_

_:Yes, I'm across the street and have just dealt with your cousin. I'll handle your aunt shortly, then go deal with your uncle.:_

_:All right. This is . . . kinda nice, actually.:_

_:Oh?:_

_:Dobby isn't much of a conversationalist for all his devotion and enthusiasm.:_

Tom chuckled quietly. _:I imagine not. Perhaps we should test the distance limitations of this . . . ability.:_

_:You'll try when you get back, uh, home?:_

_:I will. If it doesn't work, it will be tomorrow night when you hear from me next.:_

_:Right. You'll be dealing with Peter this evening.:_

Tom thought it was interesting that while he could sense Harry's emotions, there was no leakage of any kind from the rest of his mind. _:Yes. Of course, if we can reach that far, I'll be able to inform you once it's over.:_

_:You think it might be dependent on the strength of our bond?:_

Tom smiled to himself. Harry was definitely an intelligent young man. _:I expect so. Though, even if we were fully in accord with each other, I doubt we could reach halfway across the world. There must be an upper distance limit.:_

_:Probably, though we are fairly unusual people, Tom. I guess I'd be happy if it could reach from the castle to Hogsmeade. This isn't quite the same as talking face to face, or in dreams. It's odd not being able to see your face.:_

_:It's still me, Harry.:_

_:I know. I just feel . . . better, I guess, when I can see you.:_

Tom refrained from pointing out that facial expressions could very easily be deceptive. _:Yes, but the advantage is that we can speak without the necessity of you having to fall asleep first. Though, I agree it is nicer to be able to see each other.:_

_:I suppose so.:_

Tom could sense something else behind that statement, some vague emotion. He wondered if it was just that Harry was feeling isolated and lonely, or if he was being subconsciously coaxed by the bond into desiring his company. _:Harry, I truly would like to continue this, but the longer I lurk over here, the more of a chance there is for someone to notice me. I should take care of your aunt and then go find your uncle.:_

_:Okay.:_

There was a definite sense of disappointment that time. Tom shook his head and refocused, this time on the aunt, and reinforced her instructions. _:Harry, I'm done here. I'll go back to the house first, so if you don't hear from me within ten minutes, assume that we can't reach so far yet.:_

_:Yes. If not, I'll see you tomorrow evening.:_

Tom slipped away down the street invisibly, then apparated to the house once he was out of the expected range of the surveillance. _:Harry?:_

He heard nothing back, so he tried again, concentrating harder, but still heard nothing in response. To give it due effort he tried several more times, then gave up and headed out to deal with Harry's uncle.

«« :: »»

He found Peter exactly where he expected him. The table was scattered with crumbs which Peter ignored in favor of continuing to eat. Tom was tempted to think that the man should have had an animagus form of a mole rather than a rat given his voracious appetite. Of course, it would shortly no longer be an issue, and his food bills would drop drastically as well.

Peter never even looked up as Tom raised his wand. In fact, he was in the process of reaching for another piece of chicken when Tom said the fatal words. Peter slumped over, laying waste to quite a bit of otherwise good food in the process. Tom stood there for a moment, wand still raised, and tilted his head to the side. He didn't sense any echoes from Harry, but perhaps he would not normally.

After a purely mental sigh, Tom levitated the corpse and led it through the corridors until he gained the back garden, bringing it eventually to a rest on a bare patch of earth. Another spell caused the corpse to be set alight. Tom stepped well back, not particularly wishing to inhale the scent of burning flesh.

He urged the intensity of the flames higher and higher, willing them to finish the job as quickly as possible so that he could be done with it. Even so, he could not completely escape the results of his actions, and suffered in silence until the body was cremated. The resulting pile of ash was favored with a hearty application of water, then churned into the earth with brisk movements of his wand.

«« :: »»

Harry was pleased to see that their room had become even cozier in nature. The fireplace added a nice touch, lending an illusionary warmth to the space, as well as a different place for Harry to rest his eyes aside from Tom's face or downward. Why he always arrived standing up, though, was a bit of a mystery.

He sat down and cast his eyes toward Tom, smiling faintly. "I'm not sure I felt anything. At least, I don't remember any disturbing dreams, and I certainly didn't wake up because of anything nasty. How exactly did you kill him?"

Tom nodded a greeting, then said, "The killing curse. You said you preferred something simple. I had considered certain kinds of poison, but I doubted those would produce any kind of a marked reaction in you, should your attempts be unsuccessful. After that I incinerated his body."

Harry exhaled almost in a sigh. "That wasn't a true test, though, but at least it's encouraging."

"Yes, I expect that Bella may be a different story entirely. Depending on how many people are aware of what you told her. . . . Well, she may be as simple as Peter, but I'm not going to make that assumption."

"And if she has told?"

"Then I think, perhaps, that I shall wipe them all out in one act. Something worthy of Voldemort himself. The question would be whether or not the other Death Eaters should be allowed to witness it."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Should I assume they wouldn't know why the others were being killed? The specifics, I mean."

"Correct. Such a display on Voldemort's part would help to convince those remaining that they had better think twice before harboring thoughts of sedition, as well as make a number of them start wondering if they should seek the help of the other side."

"Helping to flush out those who might be let go?"

"In a sense. Practically speaking, I'm going to have to be a lot more sure than that. I foresee a number of private meetings and obliviations in the future."

Harry flashed Tom a quick grin, then sobered. "Well, if my shielding doesn't hold up, I get the feeling I really won't enjoy what you might end up doing."

"You may or may not feel it, Harry. I think, based on the past, that it was whenever I was feeling extreme emotions that you were compelled to share the experience. That is, when I wasn't deliberately trying to possess you. If this is more than just Bella, I will be fairly angry, but I'm not sure it will approach the level of irrationality or madness that it once would have."

"That makes a certain kind of sense." He paused, then changed the subject. "Setting aside fate for a moment. . . . Why did you come after me first, Tom?"

Tom's brows rose fleetingly. "That requires two answers. I was aware that there were two to be born that fit the criteria, you and the Longbottom boy. In part, it was a question of which protections I could subvert first, though to cover my bases I intended to deal with both of you. However, the second answer may seem a bit hypocritical. I considered you more of a threat, being able to identify with you more. We're both half bloods. If I could become this great figure of power, even more so than purebloods, then why not you? As it was, Peter fell neatly into my hands, so I went after you first."

"You're right. It does sound like hypocrisy. Voldemort comes off as saying he wants to kill off that which he hates most about himself, even when he recognizes that his blood made no difference, or might have even made him stronger. It makes no sense whatsoever. Yes, I get the part about carrying on Salazar's noble cause, but. . . . It doesn't change anything. The death of every single muggle, muggleborn, and half blood doesn't make Voldemort a pureblood, and it doesn't change the fact that you had a lousy past."

"I know. Then again, insanity makes its own rules."

"Yes, well, insanity is very convenient at times." Harry held up a hand and continued, "No, I didn't mean that as an insult, Tom. If everything I've read is accurate, then I understand you couldn't help but be a bit crazy. On another note, Dobby found something interesting for me."

"Oh?"

"About dementors. I've been thinking about them, and what it might mean to let them go. Well, assuming that Fudge wouldn't let them back in as guards to Azkaban. You mentioned genocide, but if what he found is accurate, it doesn't exactly apply. Apparently, they don't breed like other creatures, they just . . . appear. I think, given time, dementors will appear in Azkaban regardless. So, if you were to try starving your lot to death, it isn't like it would mean the end of them."

"Dobby found. . . ?"

Harry nodded. "He says there's a lot of interesting stuff hidden in the castle. But, I expect you would know that to some degree. I assume that's where you found out about your connection to Salazar, right?"

Tom tilted his head to the side and stared at the fire. When he didn't speak for several minutes, Harry began to get very curious. "Tom? What is it?"

"Hmm?" Tom turned his gaze on Harry and gave him an odd smile. "Maybe I won't have the others watch the death of Bella and/or her coconspirators. I could devise an elaborate trap for them, and for those others I wish to get rid of as being too dangerous or too caught up in sadism. Or at least, some of those. It might seem a bit suspicious to dear Bella if only she and her friends are called."

"She doesn't exactly seem sane to me, Tom. I'm not sure if it would matter. I mean, doesn't she believe you see her as one of the most loyal? And, if she has begun the formation of a rebellion, it may be that those she's contacted may be the same ones you already have down for, uh, handling."

"True. Well, as I plan on interrogating her with veritaserum, she can tell me exactly what she thinks about that before I obliviate her memory of the event. If she is that bold, then yes, you're right, it won't matter."

He paused, then said, "Harry, are you feeling isolated?"

"Yes, but it's not all that much different from the summer before my second year, and far less unpleasant. Why?"

Tom shrugged a shoulder. "It occurred to me that if you do get to feeling too lonely or caged in, I could trip the wards deliberately and make them consider moving you to where you'd have more people to talk to. Though, I know you said you don't always appreciate what your friends and the Order put you through."

Harry sighed. "You know, there are times when I truly wish I could question you with veritaserum."

"Because you still aren't sure who to trust. Harry, part of trusting is learning to do so, through experience. You're sitting there, so unsure, wondering if you should continue to let me into your head, or if you should run to Dumbledore the moment you can and tell him everything, am I right?"

"Of course. That's why I wish I could just know. And, Dumbledore would never give me that opportunity."

"But I might?"

"You might, if you really mean all that you say, and if you trusted me not to ask anything out of bounds."

Tom arched a brow, then smiled. "Let's say I allowed it. And let's say that you were satisfied. Would you allow the same in return?"

"I . . . guess I would have to," Harry replied a bit reluctantly.

"All right. Though, until we're able to be physically face to face again, it's a moot point, wouldn't you agree?"

"Which wouldn't be until I was back at Hogwarts and was able to go down to Hogsmeade. And that assumes I could slip away from my friends. Or, can—are you prevented from entering the grounds?"

"I have no idea, actually. I won't know until I try, I suppose. Harry, if you'd like to visit, I can send a portkey with Dobby. We'd have to slip you back in again like we did before. You already have a lockpick. I'd just need to get more of the invisibility potion, or you could bring along your cloak."

Harry ruffled his hair and glanced at the fire. "We could do that. But if Dobby is able to jump me around Hogwarts, then he could conceivably jump me back and forth between here and your home, right?"

"Distance might be a factor, Harry."

"Then I'll ask him at breakfast. If not, I guess it would have to be the other way."

"You might wish to know that Severus has not heard anything yet on when you'll be removed."

Harry shrugged. "I don't really expect them to come for me until a week prior. Not for almost three weeks."

"You're welcome to visit at any time, Harry. I'll simply have to make sure you know if I have anything planned. If Dobby can't jump you, then let me know. I'll make a set of portkeys."

"All right."

«« :: »»

Harry was woken by the sound of Dobby popping into the room, letting him know he had overslept. Not, of course, that he had to be awake at any particular time. Once they got the question of what he would like to eat out of the way, Harry spent some time trying to wake up properly and get out of bed. When Dobby returned Harry said, "Dobby, I have a question for you."

Dobby perked his ears and leaned forward slightly.

"You said you could bring me anywhere in Hogwarts with you. Just how far can you manage? Like, could you jump me from here to Tom's home?"

Dobby brought his hands together in front of him, under his chin, and considered. "Dobby is not sure, master. Dobby would have to try to know."

"What if the attempt failed? I'd just stay here?" was Harry's reasonable question.

"Master would not be harmed in the attempt. Master would stay right here."

"Okay. When I'm done eating, would you like to try?"

"Dobby is being happy to!"

Fifteen minutes later he held one of Dobby's hands and waited. Dobby disappeared, but he didn't. Dobby was back in seconds with a look of dismay.

"It's all right. Don't worry about it," Harry said. "Maybe once I'm back at Hogwarts you can try to see if you can jump me down to Hogsmeade. Thank you for trying, at least. Would you be willing to do me a favor, though?"

"What is master wanting?"

"I wanted to let Tom know something. If I wrote him a letter, could you deliver it? I don't want to use Hedwig because I need to send her out every three days and I'm afraid sending her to Tom's would take too long."

"Dobby is willing." Dobby nodded several times.

Harry sat down to write out a short note to Tom about the failure. Within minutes Dobby had popped out again, leaving Harry quite alone. After some thought he realized that he still wouldn't know, should Tom produce veritaserum, if the potion was genuine.

Then again, he could ask Dobby to find him a book on bindings and oaths. It might be that a Wizard's Oath could ensure that Tom would not ask him anything Harry hadn't already approved. That way, if he was forced to be truthful himself, that would mean Tom had also spoken the truth.

He spent another few minutes wondering if he should be asking what exactly Tom had planned for Bella, then shook his head and reached for one of his books.

«« :: »»

He nodded to the house elf and opened the letter to the sound of it popping out.

_Tom,_

_Well, I had Dobby try to jump me over there. No such luck. I'll have him try  
again once I'm back at school. I guess it'll have to be portkeys, though frankly,  
I can't stand the things. You might be able to guess why._

_Since there's only a few weeks left, I guess two should do it, right? Maybe I  
could arrive on Friday evenings. Go back Saturday night? Of course, I know  
that portkeys are strictly regulated, but I can't see that as being an issue._

_Harry_

Tom smirked. Harry certainly had a casual disregard for the rules. Still, it would show a certain amount of trust on Harry's part should he actually use a portkey sent to him. He laid the letter aside and got up to find suitable objects, then keyed them to the audience chamber, set to trigger at the right word. He composed a short letter in return and boxed everything up, making his way to the kitchen afterward.

"You, Belk, I have a task for you."

"Yes, master."

Tom handed over the package and said, "When Dobby returns, give this to him for his master. I'm sure he'll be back around noon."

"Of course, master. Belk is being happy to."

Tom nodded and turned, heading back to his study, at which point he activated his ring, then settled in with a book while he waited. Severus swept in a short time later and sank into a chair as he removed his mask.

"That is no longer necessary, Severus. Peter is dead, so there will be no one here to see anything they shouldn't."

"I see. How tragic. May I ask how he died?"

"I could say it was from gluttony, but that would not be accurate. However, he was in the act of eating when I hit him with the killing curse. Wasted rather a lot of food in the process, I'm sorry to say."

"Indeed. It is as well you called. Dumbledore has finally given voice to when he plans to remove Potter to Order headquarters. They intend on fetching him on the twenty-fourth. Albus is quite solicitous of the boy's safety."

Tom snorted. "Of course. Well, that's what Harry expected anyway. I assume someone from the Order will be letting him know shortly, then, though I'll tell him the next time I see him."

Severus arched a brow.

"Dreams, Severus. Dreams. The only night I didn't speak to him was when I killed Peter. And speaking of inconveniences, let's discuss Bella, shall we?"

"As you wish."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	8. Trust

* * *

**— 08: Trust —**

* * *

"After talking with Harry on a number of issues, I've tentatively decided on something a little different for her, and a few others." Tom went on to outline his plans, then sat back to wait for a response. Surprisingly, it came fairly quickly.

"I see no particular flaw other than wondering if you have such a place already available. Of course, you no longer have Pettigrew to use as a summons."

"Neither are at issue. I happen to know of a lovely place. I had even been considering annexing it for my own use. As for a summons, there are plenty of Death Eaters wandering around the main estate at all hours. It is simply a matter of taking one of them with me, then summoning the rest after I've finished my preparations."

"Are you going to require assistance with those preparations?"

"Only if you wish to help. Aside from cleaning certain rooms up and moving furniture in, there isn't much to do. Well, just those few extra details."

"And Potter? Has he expired from boredom yet?"

"Why, Severus, you almost sound like you care. No, he has not. And I expect to be seeing him tomorrow evening, actually, assuming he uses the portkey I've arranged for. It would be nice, I allow."

Severus snorted, but did not degrade Harry, as Tom might have expected. Instead he said, "I should think any sane and reasonably intelligent person would like to escape that wretched muggle area, and those people."

"Do you know if Dumbledore has done anything that would alert him were I to enter the grounds of Hogwarts, or the castle itself?"

"That would depend. So long as you did no dark magic, it should not be an issue."

"But you aren't sure," Tom persisted.

"No, I am not."

"That's fine. I'll simply have to test it. Though, it makes me wonder. He did such a fine job of protecting Harry that I have to wonder if he's done as well with the castle. For all I know, I could waltz in at high noon with no one the wiser. Anyway, care to join me on a little trip, or are there more pressing things for you to attend to?"

«« :: »»

When Dobby arrived to inquire about lunch—Harry was starting to wish the elf would listen when he said that anything was fine—he also brought with him a small package. Harry busied himself with that while Dobby went off to prepare his meal.

Inside was a note and two flat silver discs. Setting those aside, Harry read.

_Harry,_

_As you requested, I've enclosed two portkeys for your use. Given what you  
said, I shan't be scheduling anything for those days. The portkeys are phrase  
triggered, so be careful what you say if you're holding them._

_To activate one simply say 'trust.'_

_If I remember correctly, you'll need to be sending a letter out tomorrow, so I  
assume you'll do so before you arrive. You specified evening, so I will expect  
you anytime after 5pm. If, for some reason, you are unable to come, send a note  
with Dobby._

_Tom_

Harry gazed up at the ceiling for a moment and snorted. He got the feeling if things did work out, the concept of trust would be a running joke for the remainder of his life. If that was the case, he thought he could live with it. He got up and stowed everything under the floorboard then sat down at his desk. Tom was giving him a gentle out, but his words were an obvious prod. Harry was slightly torn between the desire to prove he wasn't afraid and the knowledge that all might not be as it seemed.

Still, he could not help but think again of the question of prophecy. It had to come from somewhere. He seriously doubted that a Seer could spout off a few lines in an odd voice, somehow mysteriously willing something to happen. They had to be a conduit for something else, some higher power. Whether that was a god or not, he couldn't begin to say. Fate, how mysterious.

It was bad enough, the potential of being a pawn in some game of Dumbledore's. Absolutely nothing came to mind as to why it would have been necessary for his parents to die. Was it possible that, had they not been there that night, they would have been spared? That someone else could have died, such as Remus? But then, they probably all had problems trusting each other by then. He supposed that his parents would have entrusted his safety to no one else under those circumstances.

Dobby popped in with lunch and Harry absently thanked him, then asked for a book on oaths and bindings before the elf left. Thinking about it further as he ate, Harry then supposed that had his parents survived that night, they would likely be horrified at the idea that their son was soul bound to their worst enemy and would have done anything to prevent them coming together.

Harry set down his fork and set his head in his hands, breathing deeply. When he realized he was grinding his teeth he straightened and began eating again. He could ask why Tom had not immediately attempted to kill his mother, but he thought he knew the answer to that already. It was quite likely that his father had initiated an attack on Voldemort and had been killed in consequence as a pest, an incidental inconvenience on his quest to kill Harry himself, the actual threat. As his mother had done nothing more than plead. . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by Dobby arriving with a book in his hand. The elf cleared away a few minutes later and Harry set to finding out if his suppositions were correct.

«« :: »»

Tom grabbed the first Death Eater he saw and hauled him to the audience chamber of his headquarters, using him to summon Bellatrix, then ordering him out the moment she arrived.

"Bella, my dear," he said silkily, "you are the keystone for my latest plans. There is no one I trust more than you, therefore, it shall be you who will head up the particular mission I have in mind, and be explaining things to the others who are to accompany you."

"I am grateful for your faith in me, my lord. How may I be of service?"

"To begin, let us be sure we will not be interrupted. Follow me," he commanded, then led the way out and to his study. Once they were both inside he locked and spelled the door, and the room, then moved to sit behind his desk, waving his permission for her to sit as well. Then he swiftly stunned her and summoned her wand to him, placing it in his pocket. A vial of veritaserum was produced and used to prepare her for questioning, then she was ennervated.

She did know. Harry had been truthful in his admission. And she had informed others of that fact. At that point Tom was feeling quite grateful to Harry for exposing a potential problem, one that was in fact a reality. Perhaps this was what the prophecy had meant about saving each other, at least in part?

Once he had obtained a complete list of names he asked her several other questions, then stunned her again and administered the antidote. The list went into his drawer and her wand was returned from whence it came. By the time she left her memories had been modified extensively, and she was laboring under the impression that he had explained in detail her next mission, and that he had secured a new location for their use, though he had not specified where it was, yet.

The list, once he had a chance to absorb it more thoroughly, exposed a few names he had not thought to be wary of, though many were already on his list for nullification. That the plan was a complete fabrication was beside the point. She would not be able to carry it out until he provided her with a number of items, which, of course, were nonexistent. She and her cohorts would be called to the new meeting room in anticipation of those final details.

Preparations should be complete by Sunday, something he passed along to Harry when he spoke with him that night in dreams. He also told him of what Severus had said about his removal. Harry had taken that news with a nod, though he had commented that he very much doubted that the Order would allow him to visit Diagon Alley personally.

«« :: »»

Harry had used one of the portkeys, which pleased him. Tom had asked one of the house elves to wait in the audience chamber to guide him should he arrive, and Harry was ushered into his study shortly after five with his cloak over one arm.

"I have something for you," Tom said after Harry had taken a seat. He opened one of the desk drawers and drew out a wand holster, then pushed it across the desk.

Harry took it with a slight smile and strapped it to his forearm, then transferred his wand to it.

"All you need to do is hit it for your wand to drop down into your hand."

Harry pondered that for a moment, then stood up and slapped his hip, smiling when his wand shot into his hand a heartbeat later. After replacing it he resumed his seat and looked up. "So tell me, would you be willing to swear a Wizard's Oath in regard to veritaserum questioning?"

Tom dropped his chin and tilted his head to the side. "You wonder if veritaserum I provide. . . . Exactly what kind of Oath?"

"I thought perhaps that you could write down what you wanted to ask me. Anything I wasn't willing to answer would be scratched off. The Oath would be to ensure you stuck to the remaining questions."

"I believe I understand what you aren't saying, Harry. And I see no reason not to agree. I cannot fault you for your caution on this. Of course, I could simply stun you and interrogate you the same way I did Bella, then erase your memory."

Harry closed his eyes, an expression of pain twisting his features. "As much as I like that you're pointing these things out, you really have a way of poking holes in my ideas, Tom. You. . . ."

"Perhaps it would be more to the point if I were to swear an Oath that I would never willingly harm you, mislead you, or even lie to you," suggested Tom. He himself was becoming a bit weary of the trust issue and what it was doing to his bonded.

Harry flicked his eyes open and stared at him. "I don't know about the harm bit. That could be interpreted in a number of ways. People unintentionally hurt others on a regular basis, without ever meaning to. Physical pain isn't the whole story."

"Point conceded. Then I would say . . . never gratuitously cause you harm."

"I—" Harry shook his head and stood up so he could pace the room, then said, "Never mind. This is too much like some stupid game. Look, is there some way to prove the existence of the bond? Something other than that we can speak to each other mind to mind? Or that prophecy? The book I have didn't go into such things."

Tom rose and went to one of the shelves and pulled down a book, then sat down and flipped through it. After finding the right page he placed it on the desk and turned it around. "Read that, and decide for yourself."

Harry wandered back over and read, eventually nodding. "Is it difficult?"

"I don't think so, no. If you'd like to attempt it yourself I can say that the wards here prevent the Ministry from knowing what's going on. Meaning, they would not detect underage use of magic on your part."

Harry shook his head again. "I'd rather not take the chance. Will you do it? Now?"

Tom smiled and produced his wand, then cast the spell. What developed in the air between them was a crackling blue-green energy that resolved first into what resembled glittering metallic points, then a steadily pulsing, glowing, twisting cord that stretched between the two of them. After several moments it abruptly winked out.

He thought it was intriguing that Harry discarded plans almost as quickly as he thought of them, especially those that dealt with the subjugation of another's will. At least, as it pertained to himself and Tom. That he was willing to take the book on faith, especially considering that it came from Tom's own library and could, in fact, have denoted nothing more than a spell designed to produce pretty lights told Tom that Harry had already crossed over the line into trust whether he realized it or not.

Harry gave him a wide-eyed look, then nodded. "All right. Then I guess I'm just not going to worry about that any longer. Like I said before, if I'm a fool, hopefully I won't live long enough to regret it much. So, dinner?"

Tom inclined his head and put away his wand, then rounded the desk to lead the way to the kitchen. As they walked he said, "Perhaps you'd like a tour, then, after we eat?"

"Was Peter the only one to know about this place?"

"Yes. Voldemort's headquarters is elsewhere. Though, I'm not so sure I'll want to keep this place once everything is said and done."

"I do know the original prophecy," Harry said abruptly, then, "It is kind of gloomy here."

"That is very interesting," he remarked. "This place is a relic of the past, perhaps one that I would be well off without. Though, I can say that your time here has helped to make it less so. You have continued to study Occlumency?"

"Yeah. It's nice to have a guide that doesn't assume everyone's mind works in the same way. I can just see Hermione visualizing the contents of her mind like filing cabinets, but that doesn't sit very well with me." Harry flashed him a smile and shrugged. "It's a little too impersonal. Mechanical almost."

"And are you seeing anything particular in mind?"

Harry shrugged again. "Sort of. I guess it's true that I tend to react well under pressure, so it's more like a dormant kind of thing that awakens. Like a part of my mind is held in reserve as a guardian."

"What, like a gytrash or a thestral? Unseen until necessary? Or a dragon guarding its hoard of gems and gold, ready to defend?"

"Something like that. I considered a basilisk, but. . . . Well, maybe it was silly of me to wonder if that kind of guardian could actually hurt someone, imaginary as it might be."

They arrived at the kitchen and took seats, pausing their conversation until several of the elves produced a meal for them, and to let one of them relieve Harry of his cloak. "Speaking of which," said Harry, "where is Nagini?"

"If you like I will introduce you to her during the tour. She already knows, not that she would try to harm anyone without orders unless they were a direct threat. She will be as loyal to you as she is to me. I am curious, Harry. The prophecy I heard lends credence to the idea that I did not die, not because of my experiments, but because it simply wasn't meant to happen. Do you feel the original also leans toward that?"

"I'm not sure, but I guess it explains why I didn't die in a roundabout way. It certainly explains this," Harry replied, tapping his scar. "I wish I could get rid of it, though. I'm sick of people always looking at that, and not me."

Tom considered for a moment, then said, "Harry, you once said that Dumbledore believes I transferred part of my power to you that night. That is also his explanation for why you are a parselmouth. For the sake of theory, do you suppose it's possible that wasn't all of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"An ability such as being a parselmouth is something you're born with, like being a metamorphmagus. You might consider attempts in that direction. If that were also the case, you could appear to be anyone you wished, much like I do."

Harry furrowed his brow, apparently turning something over in his head and checking it out from all angles. "If so, it's just innate? I want something to change, and it does?"

"There is a degree of will and concentration involved, but yes. However, once you've changed something, it's easy enough to maintain it without really thinking about it."

"And putting things back to normal? Sure, I've been staring at this face for years, but that doesn't mean I consciously remember my appearance."

"I call that reverting, Harry. It's an undirected focus of will for another change. If you are purposely not thinking about what you want and initiate a change, you'll go back to your original appearance. Your mind and body remember these things, even if you don't consciously."

"Well, we could stop by a mirror later, I suppose."

Tom shook his head. "As I said, it's innate. If you can do it, you can, without needing to see yourself. Granted, a mirror is useful to make sure you didn't have any stray thoughts mucking up the process."

Harry nodded and bent his head over his plate, applying himself to his food industriously for several minutes before speaking again. "This may sound silly, but . . . I'm not sure what to think about this bond, aspects of it. I mean, did you even know you were. . . ?"

Tom chuckled softly. "I've always gone both ways, Harry, though I admit that sexual activities were reserved for more as a kind of power play. When you're trying to take over the world, you tend to keep such things distinct from the emotions that can go with it. I take it the idea never once crossed your mind?"

"Well, no. I've only ever kissed a girl, or noticed a girl, so far. The Dursleys are . . . perfectly normal people . . . you could say. No hints there of anything beyond their idea of normal."

"I suppose that's not unreasonable, from their point of view. However, the world is much more than such limited focuses. Something to think about, at any rate. I won't push you, Harry. Things will happen as they do and not before."

"All right."

It wasn't until ten minutes into the tour that Tom realized Harry had actually accomplished proof of his suspicion. Where once Harry's scar had been displayed prominently on his forehead, there was now only an unmarked expanse of skin. He grinned, pleased that Harry had managed it so quickly, and that he was able to at all. Now, no matter what, Harry could disguise himself without needing to rely on potions or spells. And while it was true that one could force an animagus to revert to human form, there was no known way to cause a metamorphmagus to assume their original appearance. Unless you counted the Imperius Curse, that is.

"Impressive, Harry, and a welcome sight."

Harry gave him a sidelong look and smiled. "Then I'll assume it worked."

"Indeed. You will always have the option to walk away now, should you choose that route. But, here is Nagini," he said as they walked into his sitting room, then hissed, _"Good evening, luv. How are you faring?"_

_"I am well, master. This is your nest mate?"_ She raised her head and appeared to study Harry, her forked tongue flicking restlessly as she tasted the air.

Harry gave him an odd look, presumably over her choice of words, as Tom took a seat on the couch. Nagini moved to coil up beside him on the floor, resting her head on the arm. _"Yes, luv. I believe you will get along fine."_ Tom indicated both the couch and a chair, then reached out to caress Nagini's head.

Harry chose the chair, possibly because he could face them both directly. _"Hello, Nagini. I'm pleased to meet you."_

_"Likewise, young master."_

"She's not generally very talkative, Harry, though she does tend to have a soothing effect when nearby. Of course, I'm quite partial to snakes, and her hissing tends to lull me nearly to sleep at times." He paused and pointed back over his shoulder. "If you wish, you can check out the other rooms in this suite. It's just my bedroom and the attached facilities. Aside from that, the only other place of interest is the suite you used previously. I assume you'll wish to stay there again tonight?"

"Er, yes. I—" Harry stopped, opened his mouth, shut it, then said a second later, "It's not like you're ugly."

"I will take that as a positive thing," Tom said with a faint smirk. "You are not ugly either, Harry, if I may borrow your phrasing, that is. In some respects, we are quite similar. Of course, perhaps you prefer something else?" He waved his hand for show as his hair changed colour to blond, then morphed to red, then brown, and back to black.

"You . . . look fine the way you are."

"This isn't me in public, though. Certainly not as seen with Harry Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Does it matter? Isn't the person inside more important? I mean, I did learn something from my one brush with liking someone, and that was that looks were fine, but. . . . Things did not go well. Still, I have to assume that you are you no matter how you look, just like Voldemort is Voldemort, with his own set of mannerisms, way of speaking, and so on. The fact that your hair might be neon blue one day and your eyes fluorescent pink the next doesn't change any of that."

"Sometimes you surprise me, Harry, though in this case I'm not sure why that is. I should think I would know better. However, since I have such freedom, I may as well model my appearance to suit your tastes."

Harry narrowed his eyes for a moment. "It might seem like that, yes. I can't help but think that it would make it conveniently easier for me to—" After a sigh he said, "I don't know. I'd have to think about it. Definitely not blond, though." He shuddered.

"I'm sure I can come up with something suitable," he said casually, then changed the subject. After all, they wouldn't always be speaking of such things as their nearly nonexistent relationship or how to handle Death Eaters. There must be some common ground, or things they could converse on, and preferably not in such a way that Harry always came across as the student or more ignorant person.

"When did you first realize you could talk to snakes?" he asked.

"Consciously? During my second year. Malfoy conjured a snake during a duel and it went for one of the other students. I don't know why I thought talking to it would solve anything, but I did. Of course, that made everyone think I was the Heir of Slytherin. Before that, I spoke to a snake at the zoo, but I never realized I was speaking Parseltongue. I just thought it was one of those odd things, you know?"

"Would it be safe to say you've never bothered with them because of the negative associations?"

Harry nodded. "I think, even now, if I had one, or was seen talking to one, people would go right back to assuming I was becoming like Voldemort. I really wonder if we have Salazar to blame for the reputation, and if there are a lot more parselmouths out there that have never dared to admit it for fear of being ostracized."

"If that weren't the case, would you keep one?"

"Probably. But it would have to want it. Hedwig was a gift. I couldn't very well refuse her. I may have even chosen her myself, but I'd like to think she would have been agreeable."

"I find it interesting," Tom said. "There are certainly parallels, with one major difference. You really don't like the idea of force, do you? The concept of—your idea of victory is, perhaps, a personal accomplishment, the betterment of yourself, not in gaining over another. You would rather conquer your own issues than hold sway over someone else. You don't seek validation in doing better than someone else, but in doing better than you have."

"Well, yes." Harry sounded vaguely confused. "Isn't that the whole point?"

"I guess that depends. And, I think there's a lot I could learn from you. Do you see the reactions of others to you as a type of force?"

"I could look at it that way. People expect me to act a certain way. People expect me to listen to them. Well, certain people expect that I'll agree that what they think is the correct thing to think. They don't like it when I won't play along."

"Such as?"

"Hermione nagging all the time about study, even when it's a stupid class, like Divination. I mean, I seriously doubt I have that gift, and Trelawny was happy with whatever tripe Ron and I came up with so long as it featured something awful happening to me. And besides, I can't say that I didn't have doubts as to whether I'd live long enough for my OWLs or NEWTs to matter. I feel differently now, but still. People who expect me to change overnight. Sure, maybe it was completely mad to go after the philosopher's stone. Maybe if I hadn't gone, Quirrel would never have figured out the trick, or Voldemort, and it would have been just as well. But that's me."

After a pause he continued. "And the Chamber. Off I go again, headlong into potential danger. But if I hadn't gone, Ginny would be dead. By the time last year rolled around, I was still doing it, despite the warnings and pleas for me to stop and think. No, I don't think I'm entirely to blame for Sirius's death, but I contributed to it. When does it weigh out in my favor to be like this? Is it a cruel joke on fate's part?"

He glanced over at Nagini, then said, "You're right, she is soothing. So, what happens if I just sit back and play the ordinary student without a worry in the world beyond exams? Do people suddenly get angry because I'm not reckless? That I'm not playing champion? Does that opinion reverse itself the moment Voldemort is gone? Do I suddenly become a new threat? I'm sorry to say that I have a hard time believing in people in general, or at least as a mass voice."

"Mob mentality can be a very ugly thing, Harry. All it takes is one persuasive voice and the world as we know it can change in the blink of an eye."

"Isn't that the crux of things? I just wanted to be normal, but I have no idea what that actually means. People's expectations can be as forceful as a fist to the jaw."

"And yet, normal people live with the expectations of others every day. No, I'm not saying your feelings aren't justified, Harry. You sit directly in the middle of a massive tangle with everyone looking to you to pull the right thread in order to unravel it. The difference between you and Voldemort is that he, I, asked for it, that pressure, those expectations. I welcomed them, gathered them into my arms willingly. You were tossed in without even knowing how to swim, never mind that you were in water over your head."

Harry gave a half shrug. "You may be right, Tom. I may never know what it's like unless I disappear."

"It is your choice. In this, I will bow to your whims."

"And in others?"

Tom grinned. "I think we'll have to see who has the most points whenever it comes up, eh?"

Harry laughed.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	9. Closer

* * *

**— 09: Closer —**

* * *

Tom gave him a long, speculative look, then said, "Would you consider doing me a favor?"

Harry raised his brows questioningly.

"Do not misunderstand. I do not expect felicitous change to occur. But . . . would you consider trying to back off on your reflexive reactions to Severus?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and said, "Why?"

"I won't repeat what I said to him, because that was for him. And I certainly won't say a word to him that I mentioned this at all. You've said yourself that it's his treatment of you that you dislike, not necessarily Severus himself. With that in mind, perhaps it would be prudent to simply give him respect where it is actually due, and leave the rest behind you? You strive toward being a better person, do you not?"

Harry relaxed, then frowned almost immediately. Tom was entirely too devious, and far too good at using Harry's own words as a method of persuasion. Tom had talked to Snape, which meant it was likely he had asked the man to stop baiting him. If so, whether or not it would have any effect remained to be seen.

On the other hand, Tom had a point. He was being a bit silly, and childish, to let the provocations get to him. He knew Snape did it to upset him or anger him, and he obligingly responded almost every time. Was this a case of killing two birds with one stone—learning to better control his temper, and not giving Snape any reason for satisfaction that he'd won another round?

He looked back at Tom and nodded. "All right."

"Thank you."

Harry thought that Tom did look pleased, but not smug, which likely meant he was not actively trying to manipulate him. "Why did you frame Hagrid? Maybe I know, but I'd like to hear your explanation."

Tom cocked his head and said, "Is this from my diary?"

"Yes. At the time, you were trying to—your memory, that is—make me think you were harmless or something, while trying to answer my question about the Chamber of Secrets. I always thought it was a bit odd, actually, and called you on it that night we met. Still, I'd like to hear your thoughts on it."

"That's very easy, Harry. If you saw what I think you did then Myrtle probably just died and the school was in danger of closing." After Harry nodded he continued, "I didn't want to be stuck in the orphanage year round, and self interest was the name of the game at the time. It was easy to frame Hagrid for it. I never thought he'd amount to much anyway, and with him in the forefront, and his odd creatures, I was off the hook and the school could remain open."

"All right, that's about what I gathered. I guess I shouldn't be shocked or anything. I guess you were a right bastard back then, huh? Anyway, I'm rather annoyed with you because he ended up back in Azkaban because of that stupid diary, even if it was only for a short while."

Tom nodded. "At the time I was very much convinced that a half breed like Hagrid was the next thing to worthless, an abomination, and certainly tailor-made for playing the role of patsy."

"And now?"

"I don't know. But I assume you are quite fond of him, so there must be something I never bothered to see."

Harry shrugged. "He came for me the first time, when the Dursleys refused to let me have any of my letters. He forced them to let me go. I admit I was scared of him at first, but really, Hagrid is generally only dangerous in odd ways."

"Such as?"

"I think you understand one of them already. His penchant for wanting odd creatures as pets. Aragog is a perfect example. He wasn't going to eat Ron and me, but his children were. Dragons, hippogriffs, and heaven only knows what else. Of course, he's a bit . . . gullible? Doesn't think a whole lot about the oddity of strangers appearing at the pub with dragon eggs or other weird stuff. And he can't always keep his mouth shut. He doesn't always think before he speaks. On the other hand, he's extremely loyal and really quite gentle and kind."

Tom cocked his head again and looked at him curiously. "Are you suggesting I find a way to remedy what I caused him to suffer?"

"I don't know. He's happy. You would think that with it proven that he couldn't have opened the Chamber—he was in Azkaban that last time—that he would be allowed to do magic now without special permission, and get a new wand."

"I might be able to spread a little influence in the Ministry, even without Lucius available to do my bidding."

"What about that stupid Umbridge woman? Did she even return to Fudge? She's responsible for a lot of legislation that restricts werewolves, not to mention being hugely against part breeds. She caused Hagrid a lot of trouble, and Remus."

"I assume you ask, not because she is my direct responsibility, but because she could continue to interfere." When Harry nodded he said, "I'd have to check."

"Fair enough. So what do you do around here all day?"

"Lately? Read, make plans."

"Don't you get lonely? Or is that a stupid question. . . ."

Tom arched a brow. After a moment he said, "I've always been alone, Harry. I did have Severus visit the other day to discuss my plans for Bella, but I think I already told you that."

In other words, Tom had no friends, which wasn't surprising, and Harry was, at this point, his only sure hope of one. In an effort to steer back into more social topics he asked, "So, where's a nice place to visit on holiday?"

«« :: »»

When Harry woke he felt refreshed, and strangely relaxed. Laying in that same bed made him remember his first night in it, when Tom had held him. He had been hurt and confused then, but also safe in that embrace. It hadn't been so bad. He realized, though, that Tom had backed off after that point, only sitting near him. It stood to reason that he meant what he had said.

He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, then sat up and stretched. Did he find Tom attractive? He wasn't bad looking. Did Tom even find him attractive? Harry discounted power, at least for himself. While so many seemed to think he was powerful, he wasn't sure he saw it. He was just lucky. He sure as hell hadn't done a whole lot in the graveyard.

Maybe he could have gone both ways as well, like Tom said he did. He had noticed Cho, though it hadn't worked out. That didn't mean anything other than to say he wasn't blind to the wiles of the opposite sex. It wasn't all about looks, though. Cho was very pretty, but trying to talk to her was next to impossible with only two topics of conversation: Cedric and quidditch.

He could say the same for Tom. The Voldemort situation was huge in scope and had a tendency to want to push everything else aside. But it was nothing to create a real foundation from. When it was over, what would be left? He tried to liken a friendship to the kind he had with Ron or Hermione, but that didn't quite translate.

He shrugged and slipped out of bed. Maybe he could try sitting next to Tom on the couch today. After slipping into the bathroom and washing up he got dressed and wandered off to the kitchen. Dobby popped up almost before he could sit down and placed a loaded plate in front of him, for once not bothering to ask what Harry would like first.

Tom arrived several minutes later, taking a seat across from Harry at the table. After a nod of greeting Tom said, "So, do you consider that you have a family?"

Harry paused and raised his brows for a second. "Maybe. I could consider the Weasleys as a surrogate family. I did consider Sirius as family. Perhaps even Remus. But I don't think it's entirely real."

"How do you mean?"

"Take Remus and my godfather, Sirius, both of them close friends with my dad. But it isn't as though I grew up knowing them. Other than the connections from the past, and who I am, there's very little to go on. Sirius was very focused on the idea of us living together, but that turned out to be impossible. And Remus, well, he's never made any great effort to get to know me that well. As for the Weasleys, I've never entirely felt like I belonged. There doesn't seem to be any clear consensus as to whether I'm family or not."

"I only really knew my father," Tom said, "and that's not saying much considering I went there to kill him."

"Okay, so neither of us has had much luck on that score," Harry remarked dryly. "That doesn't mean we can't learn." After a pause he said quite deliberately, "Together."

Tom smiled. "I often wonder how my mother felt about me. I assume she wanted me."

"Well, maybe if your father hadn't been such a bastard. . . ."

"Sometimes I wonder if there are so many similarities on purpose."

"What, so we'd be able to relate to each other better?" asked Harry. "If that's true, then I can't reasonably blame you all that much for my parents. Well, I could. You did do it, after all. But I have to admit that I wonder about things like that myself. I mean, it's still fairly open-ended. Maybe certain things had to happen, but past that, it's your choice or mine how it goes, isn't it?"

"I guess that depends. Some of the things we do, the choices we make, are based on our personalities. We may end up doing things exactly as fate might wish, if there is such a thing."

"Bounded free will?"

Tom shrugged. "Maybe. That's not to say that people can't and don't change."

After breakfast they went outside, to the back garden, as Harry hadn't been outside in some time. It was a fairly lovely day, and Harry found a nice grassy patch to fling himself down on. Tom sat nearby, close, but not too close, and braced himself with his arms. They talked, intermittently, about whatever came to mind, when it came to mind, carefully steering away from anything serious, until the sky began to darken in an unmistakable warning of an approaching storm.

Harry made a disgusted noise and sat up. "Nice," he said. "I was actually enjoying myself. I felt . . . normal."

Tom smiled and shook his head. "I as well. Let's go inside before we get soaked. I don't particularly want to catch a cold, Harry."

As they walked inside Harry said, "Tom, would you do me a favor?"

"What is it, Harry?"

"Would you consider appearing like you were at sixteen when I'm around, or thereabouts?"

"If you like, sure."

Harry aimed a small smile at him and allowed himself to be led off to a sitting room with huge windows so that they could watch the storm. "I just hope that this ends before I need to leave. I don't really want to squelch my way back into the house."

Tom smirked. "Uncomfortable, at best."

Harry sighed. "I still don't want to go back. But, it's not for much longer. Everything is kind of confusing." He deliberately sat down on the couch next to Tom, leaving a bit of space between them. "School will probably be odd as well. I wonder how long it will take before we have any idea of which students are leaning toward Voldemort?"

"I honestly don't know. But that does remind me that I need to see if it will set off any alarms if I enter the grounds."

Harry slanted a look at him and said teasingly, "Planning on coming to rescue me if necessary?"

"I would."

"Yeah, I think you would. Thought of a new name yet?"

Tom blinked and shook his head. "Not really."

"Normal or exotic?"

"Sorry?"

"I've noticed that some families like to take on names from ancient Rome, while others just go with the rest of the world. What would you prefer?"

"I . . . don't know."

"Hmm. Martin, Kyle, Ryan," he said, then frowned. "Of course, there's always something like Ash."

"Ash?"

"Well, sure. Like a phoenix rebirth from the ashes," Harry explained. "Zane, Riley, Caiden, Tristan, Spence, Xavier. . . ."

"And all these come from where?"

Harry shrugged. "Just off the top of my head. Names I sort of like, that's all. Do you like any of them?"

"Maybe I should bow to your sense of humor and go with Ash. And what about you? I know, it might not be necessary, but did it ever cross your mind?"

Harry gave him another sidelong glance. "Well, I never did really like the name Harry," he admitted. "Don't you think most people spend time hating their name and thinking up something they'd like better?"

"Mmm. And?"

"You'll think it's silly."

"Perhaps, but I won't laugh," Tom assured him.

"I considered Rigby at one point, though I do like Riley, or maybe Coran."

"How about Coran, with Riley as a surname?" Tom suggested.

Harry considered that, plucking at the leg of his baggy jeans, then looked over with a smile. "That might be nice. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course. I suppose I could use Riley as a surname as well, or something else if you had one in mind."

"No, that's fine." Harry got up so he could stand at the window and watch the storm's progress, flinching as a bolt of lightning lit the sky without warning. "Do you think we could have lunch now? I'm hungry again."

«« :: »»

Tom thought it over as he lay in bed, having delivered Harry back to Privet Drive and heard confirmation in his head that Harry was safely back in his room. Harry hadn't reacted badly to the idea of a shared surname, or even to the possibility of a new name at all. Despite his words that spoke of a claim to retain his identity, it was obvious that the young man had not blinded himself to potential outcomes, and that pleased him.

He had been equally pleased that Harry had gotten physically closer to him, saying without words either that he was no longer afraid, or that he was consciously trying to step past the normality presented by his family. Which, he wasn't sure, but Harry had rested in his arms comfortably that first night, looking to him for safety and comfort.

The bond, he supposed with a slight sigh, but more recently? He tended to think not. It could be wishful, but he had, after all, enjoyed their time in the garden. Their conversation had been surprisingly normal, wandering from topic to topic, sometimes so rapidly that, looking back, he realized he couldn't say at times why it had happened. It was like those silly word games where one was challenged to go from one word to another in so many steps.

If pressed, he might be persuaded to admit that part of Harry's charm was his obvious power, and his total obliviousness to it. And he was pleasing to the eyes, not that Harry would ever realize that fact, either. There was a stubborn degree of innocence that lurked in Harry's eyes, despite everything, that reached out to ensnare those who could see it, calling like a siren, and promising that everything would be all right.

Tom shook his head and snorted. He was beginning to sound sappy even in his own thoughts. Still, there was just something about Harry that was unmistakable, and undeniable.

When he awoke the next morning it was with the knowledge that he would have to take care of Bella and her cronies, something that brought about feelings of anticipation and annoyance mingled into an unwholesome mess. To his surprise, it was not a house elf that arrived shortly after with his breakfast, but Severus.

"Good morning," the man said, placing the tray across his lap with an enviable economy of movement, then taking a seat in a nearby chair.

"Severus?"

"I thought you would like help today," Severus said expressionlessly.

"Yes, all right," Tom replied absently. He sat there for a moment, then shook his head and quirked his mouth. "Thank you. I have mixed feelings about today."

"You're welcome, Tom."

He blinked, then smiled. "You already ate?" he asked, knowing that there was every likelihood that Severus had been awake for hours. When the man nodded he snatched a piece of toast from the plate and crunched into it.

"When?"

Tom swallowed and said, "Noon. It's set for them to arrive for lunch, to be followed by a meeting. Except, of course, I won't actually attend."

"Mixed feelings?"

Tom shrugged a shoulder. "I'll be happy to see Bella dealt with, but I must admit that I wonder what would be the result of her supposedly killing Voldemort and exposing him for the lie he is."

"You are referring to being a half blood," Severus stated.

Tom nodded. "However, I get the feeling that Dumbledore would consider it to be some kind of a trick. Considering that everyone seems hell bent on the idea that Harry is the one to kill him. . . ."

Severus snorted. "I still think that boy couldn't find his own shadow without a map. How anyone could expect him to be the one is beyond my ken."

Tom arched a brow and grinned. "And yet, he manages to beat your house team at Quidditch on a regular basis." Severus scowled at him and refused to comment, so Tom went back to his breakfast, eating quickly. Eventually he remarked, "I still wish I knew what the original prophecy said."

"You're alive, he's alive, is it really that important?"

"I don't know," Tom admitted. "I just think it will fill in some of the holes. I also want to know if Dumbledore has any inkling of the second prophecy."

"Then might I suggest, to start at least, that you find yourself a place in London for when the boy is taken from Privet Drive? Preferably near Kings Cross."

Tom stared for a moment, then nodded. "If you think it's a wise idea." He knew it had to do with Dumbledore's headquarters, and that Severus would never be able to tell him the actual location.

"As to the second prophecy—though, in truth, it is the third in a sense—you might see merit in attempting to place a serpent in his office."

Tom mulled that over, his eyes on the blanket covering him, then lifted his eyes and said, "Perhaps. Would you like one in your own quarters? While they cannot speak English, they can understand it."

Severus parted his lips, paused, then replied, "That might be a wise idea."

He wondered if Severus had assumed one had been placed there already, to spy on his activities. "I will make the arrangements through Harry, then. The second prophecy?"

"Trelawney rendered the second to Potter personally. It was in regard to Pettigrew rejoining Voldemort."

"Ah." There seemed to be no adequate response to that revelation. "It would greatly ease my mind if I knew," he said. "If he does, what does that say? That he really is willing to stand aside as others abuse Harry and then send him to his death? I presume, of course, that the first prophecy marks Harry as Voldemort's killer. If so, and with the one we heard, if he knows, then that is it. He prepares Harry for his own death."

The look on Severus's face told Tom all he could ever want to know about what the man would like to have replied and didn't. He kept the smirk that was threatening to break free repressed, though. It might well be that someday Severus would open up. After all, if he could go from a sadistic, power hungry mass murderer. . . .

"That is possible," is what Severus finally said.

Tom rubbed his face and said briskly, "Well, conjecture gets me nowhere at present, so I may as well get up and face today." As he lifted the tray in anticipation of swinging his legs to the floor he added, "I'm glad you came, Severus."

«« :: »»

Severus was wearing yet another disguise, not that it mattered much considering he was cloaked and masked, and that he was invisible on top of that. Tom could sense his presence, though, hovering nearby in a looming kind of way. He let his gaze narrow as the first of the Death Eaters arrived and abased themselves at his feet, followed in rapid succession by the others as they appeared. Only Bella had a casual flair to her actions. That alone would have made her stand out in an organization which consisted almost entirely of men were it not for the decided tilt and sway of her hips as she walked.

Tom would not have been surprised to find out that she was sleeping with any number of them, nor been surprised if her husband was willing to stand back and remain quiet on the matter. However, baseless speculation was only good for his personal amusement. He let loose with a chilly smile, ostensibly pleased to see his minions so happy to fling themselves at his feet.

"My friends," he said sibilantly, "you will find refreshments inside. Avail yourselves, and I will join you shortly so that our next glorious move may be revealed. I know you will all enjoy what is to come." The sparkle in Bella's eyes was not lost to him, nor the postures of her fellows. Had she not been wearing a mask, he knew he would see the self-satisfied smirk that twisted her mouth.

One by one they filed in silently and took places around the table. "Soon, my children," he said as he shut the door gently. He waited for several minutes before nodding, at which point Severus flickered into view. "Let us take care of this door, shall we?" he said softly.

Severus nodded and moved to his side, producing his wand. In concert they cast the spells, watching as huge stone slabs both rose from the floor and dropped from the ceiling, each several times wider than the door the Death Eaters had stepped through. When the movement finally stopped they were staring at what would appear to be a very strange wall that blocked off further access down the corridor, and not incidentally, the door itself.

"That should keep them well occupied once we open the gates," Tom remarked, then reached into his pocket for a small sphere. A flick of his wrist activated it, the interior suddenly swirling with smoke which abruptly resolved into a picture. The Death Eaters were eating heartily, completely unconcerned that their master had not yet joined them.

"Fine," Tom murmured. "Then let us release their punishment." After a quick look at Severus he whirled and stalked off, taking the first right sharply and trotting up a set of winding steps. The next floor was just as dirty and damp, smelling of fungi and other things that liked to grow in such conditions. Some of that same fungi helped to light their way, glowing as it did in scabrous patches on the walls.

"Such a charming place, Tom. I love what you've done with it," Severus muttered.

Tom smirked and turned left, walking a short way down the hall before stopping abruptly. Just a little ahead of them the floor showed the results of their efforts below, with entire sections missing. To his immediate left was another door, which he opened with a wave of his hand. He stood in the doorway and smiled.

"My dear friends," he rasped, "lunch is about to begin. I trust you will be grateful for this thoughtful gift." A ripple of assent rolled past him. "I have made sure there won't be any accidents, so enjoy yourselves to the fullest." He stepped back, closing the door again, but not before he had aimed his wand at four points in the room and seen that portions of the floor were sliding back.

Turning back to Severus he said, "Then let us fix this as well." A minute later that door, too, was blocked off as had been the one below. The sphere revealed what he expected to see. Dementors were pursuing his oh-so-faithful Death Eaters around the lower room after having dropped through the gates he had so kindly opened for them. The fact that anti-apparition wards were in place and the doorway was blocked well enough so as to require prolonged and dedicated spell casting to remove the barrier naturally meant that his Death Eaters were not faring well at all.

Of course, it didn't hurt that a Patronus required a genuinely strong, happy memory to manage, and at that only drove them away temporarily. He allowed his mind to drift a little as he considered the idea of a transformed Peter stuck in a maze with a twist of snakes after him and smiled faintly. This was rather like that. He shook his head when he noticed Severus staring at him and returned his attention to the sphere.

It was said that watching a person be Kissed was nearly unbearable and without doubt some of his less than faithful minions remembered that judging by their attempts to suicide rather than be caught and given the undivided attention of a dementor.

"No, Severus," he finally said after the last of them had either died or been kissed. "I am not enjoying this, but I do feel a certain satisfaction. It is just as well that the sphere cannot transmit sound. Though, I will admit that seeing Bella drooling in the corner is . . . delightful." She had tried to the very last to defend herself against the foul creatures, unwilling or unable to conceive of the possibility of defeat.

"Is that why you smiled?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I was thinking of Peter, actually." He briefly explained his little daydream and shrugged. "We should go. I'll come back once everything has gone quiet."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	10. Dreams

* * *

**— 10: Dreams —**

* * *

"Harry?" The young man didn't answer, so he tried again. "Harry?"

Harry took a single step closer, then stopped, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. A minute later—an agony of waiting—he took another step, and fell into his chair. "That was . . . disgusting."

Tom sighed heavily. "So you did experience it?"

"Just flashes." Harry looked up and fixed those big green eyes on him. "You had an interesting reaction, Tom."

"Is that good or bad?"

Harry shrugged. "It isn't like you were laughing maniacally or bouncing around in glee. Still, I think it means something, don't you?"

Tom furrowed his brow. Harry was in a very odd mood it seemed, and acting quite like a mystic. "Would you explain?"

"I blocked you, but you came through anyway. Don't you think that means our bond is getting stronger?"

Tom watched in confusion as Harry rose to his feet and approached him, then gasped softly as Harry crawled onto his lap and slid his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

"Is this what you wanted, Tom?" Harry whispered, then leaned in.

Tom sat up straight in bed, breathing heavily.

«« :: »»

Harry arrived as he always did, materializing into place near the chair he used. After that bizarre dream, Tom felt a little wary of what might happen. Nevertheless he said, "Harry?"

"Hello, Tom." Harry walked lightly to his chair and flopped into it, letting one leg rest over the arm and slumping into its embrace. Harry looked up at him and smiled. "Was it bad?"

Tom shook his head slightly. "Moderately. Severus went with me to assist. I'm glad that she's gone."

"Gone, but not forgotten," Harry said, raising an imaginary glass in salute with a twist of his lips. Then his expression cleared. "I don't think I felt anything. Just some uneasiness. Was that yours? Or mine?"

"I don't know. So, no visions?"

"You don't know? How did you feel, then, when it was happening?"

Tom shrugged a shoulder. "Some sorrow. They were good people once, in totally the wrong sense. I flirted with the idea, before I set things in motion, of letting her appear to kill Voldemort. But I thought it would seem awfully convenient to others, so I kept going."

"And you didn't want to upset me, right?" Harry tilted his head to the side and gazed at him steadily. "But," he continued, "some satisfaction as well, am I right?"

"Of course," he admitted. "She was a threat. And her comrades. And, she was bested in the end."

Harry rose to his feet, causing Tom a moment of uncertainty, then flopped onto the floor in front of the fire, folding his arms back behind his head and drawing one leg up so that his foot rested flat on the floor. "How long do you think. . . ?"

"I don't know." Tom snorted and shook his head. "I seem to be saying that a lot lately, don't I? But, I don't. I'll keep checking. I expect the dementors will last much longer."

"I did dream," Harry said unexpectedly. Tom thought he had forgotten the question, or was avoiding it. "It was very strange. You and I were in here."

"And?"

Harry closed his eyes and murmured, "It was nothing important." Then he wrinkled his nose and looked over at him. "Would you be willing to bring in a nice rug of some kind next time?"

"What? So you can sprawl on the floor in comfort?" he asked, both amused and unsettled by Harry's behavior.

"Of course! There's more room down here, and it's closer to the fire."

Harry's grin was infectious, and Tom felt an answering grin stretch his mouth. "As you wish. Though—" He pondered the situation for a moment, then said, "Why don't you try?"

"Huh?"

"This place is as much yours as mine, Harry. If I can make it appear as I wish, perhaps you can as well. You want a cushy rug, so try."

Harry frowned thoughtfully, then rolled over and got to his feet. After stepping back he extended one hand dramatically and closed his eyes again. Tom nearly laughed at the picture Harry presented, but didn't, though he smiled in appreciation as a fluffy, fake-fur rug appeared on the floor. A second later he clapped, causing Harry to open his eyes and look.

Harry grinned, a wicked sparkle coming to his eyes, then flopped onto the rug in the same position as before. "This is much better!" he avowed, wriggling his shoulders.

Tom was struck again by the innocence that radiated off Harry. Was this the same person who had crawled into his lap in the dream? Or, was it actually a dream? Harry was hiding something, but that was all right. He was taken from his musing by the sound of Harry's voice.

"How do you know when it's not a dream?"

Coincidence? "This isn't. Not really."

"Sure, but. . . ."

"All right." Tom exhaled, trying to think of the best way to explain, for Harry, and himself. "There are different kinds of dreams, Harry. Like your average, everyday dream. They don't always make sense, but scientists believe, or maybe I mean quacks, that they're trying to tell you something. Your subconscious trying to speak to you or work things out, or even just a reflection of your current hopes or fears. Then there's something called lucid dreaming, where you're aware that it's a dream and can control what's happening."

"Sounds like my rug," was Harry's comment.

"Yes, and no. The difference here is that we're both fully cognizant of this place. If you were to write down this experience in the morning, and I as well, they'd match, more or less. With a real dream, lucid or otherwise, there would be no basis for comparison."

Harry dropped his knee and raised the other one. "Okay, that makes sense. It doesn't entirely answer the question, though."

"Is the dream you had bothering you for some reason?" he asked shrewdly.

"Maybe. In it, I did something strange. Rather unlike me, actually. Of course, I'm not always sure who me is to be honest. So it made me curious as to how to tell the difference."

"I assume you'll tell me what happened if you wish to, so I won't ask. But, did what happened upset you? Scare you?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe it was just my way of exploring something. So, Snape came along to help?"

"Yes. I wasn't sure he would."

"Maybe he's not so bad after all."

"He was his usual sarcastic self, Harry."

The young man laughed softly and rolled over onto his stomach. "The world would probably explode if he wasn't. I guess some things were just meant to be, huh?"

Harry was silent for so long after that that Tom wondered if he had somehow managed to fall asleep inside their shared dream. When he finally caught the faint sound of snoring Tom smiled indulgently, then released his hold.

«« :: »»

Harry sat on the rug, pulling one knee up so he could wrap his arms around it. It was a lonely place without Tom, but still cozy. Ever since Tom had explained the difference between dreams he had been curious to try to create this place himself, just to see if he could. Pulling Tom into it would be another matter entirely.

"What is it, Harry?"

He jerked in surprise, his head turning quickly to see Tom sitting in his customary chair. "That's not very nice, you know. I hadn't got around to trying to call you, and here you are anyway."

Tom gave him an odd smile, an upturn at the corners of his mouth. "Yet here I am."

"That's okay, this is probably just a dream, as I wanted. You said dreams are odd anyway." Harry waved his hand in dismissal, then wrapped his arm around his knee again and dropped his chin.

"Yes, just a dream."

Just a dream. Then there was no harm in being honest, right? "So, dream, what do you see while you sit there?"

"I see a very attractive young man," was the reply.

"Attractive? Me?" Harry laughed softly. "Now I know this is a dream. I did something the last time. I'm not sure why. I woke up, though."

"What did you do?"

Harry thought he sounded genuinely curious. "I tried to kiss you. Silly, huh?"

"Why is it silly?"

Harry shrugged. "Silly. It just is. It isn't like I'd have the courage awake. Not that I had a chance to see what it felt like. But, still, this is a dream, like that was. It isn't real anyway."

"So you were curious?"

"Of course I was. I've only ever kissed Cho, and that's not saying much."

"Maybe you shouldn't bother in dreams."

"Why?" Harry almost felt like he was talking to his Devil's Advocate.

"Because, as you said, it isn't real. And if it's not real, neither is your reaction, or his. Wouldn't it be better to try while you're awake? Tom said he wouldn't pressure you. I think it's going to be up to you to make the first move, Harry."

"You're awfully weird for a dream, you know that?"

"If you say so. But I'm a part of you, so shouldn't that statement be directed at yourself?"

Harry scowled and flicked his fingers. "Whatever. I'm going back to sleep. I'm sure the real you will be calling soon anyway."

«« :: »»

Tom sat up in bed, breathing heavily. So it had been real. Harry really had come on to him, or tried. He felt . . . ashamed that he had played along, pretending that he was unreal, a product of Harry's mind, but he had not wanted Harry to realize the truth and become embarrassed, or draw away from him. It also meant that Harry had actually experienced some of what had happened. Why had he lied? And yet, he had seemed perfectly at ease during their normal session the previous night, mostly.

He ran a hand through his hair and contemplated what to do. Well, initiate another session, surely, but beyond that? He laid back and closed his eyes, sighing, then smiled. Harry _was_ brave. And on that note, he started the process of building their room.

«« :: »»

"Has there been any change?"

Tom arched a brow, not that Harry could see that with closed eyes. "It's only been two days. The dementors are still roaming around restlessly."

"I wonder if that's all there is. Hunger and survival instinct."

"Perhaps. There must be some level of intelligence, though, Harry. They couldn't follow orders otherwise, or even understand them."

"True, but that doesn't mean they have feelings like we do. I don't know if I should feel dirty for what we're doing, or not."

"Every cloud has a silver lining?"

Harry snorted and rolled onto his stomach, cradling his head on his folded arms. "This is still difficult."

"I could let them out," Tom offered.

"Wouldn't they come after you?"

"I have no idea. I don't know if they understand the concept of time, actually." And he didn't. It wasn't as though he had ever bothered to try to talk philosophy with the creatures.

"It's too risky. It's done, so leave it."

"I dared the grounds today. Nothing happened that I could ascertain."

Harry turned his head to the other side, facing him. "That's good. And since when is there a couch in here?"

"Since you started sprawling on the floor. If you get to do that, I get to lounge on a sofa."

"It's not very big," Harry said critically.

"Neither am I, presently."

Harry grinned. "Big, bad Voldemort. In reality, not much taller than I am. Fate must be laughing."

Tom cracked a smile. "I think Fate is always laughing."

"With us? Or at our expense?"

"I—"

"—don't know."

Tom snorted. "I was going to say, I think both."

"Two more weeks," said Harry with a sigh.

"Don't be like that. Just a minute ago you were smiling. Things have been all right at the house?"

"Sure. They haven't bothered me at all, just like you promised. Got the usual letter today, sent one out. Ron and Hermione also wrote, but they didn't have much to say. I can't decide if this is a repeat of last year, or what."

Tom let his free arm dangle over the edge of the couch. He was disturbed at how quickly Harry's mood kept shifting. "What do you mean?" he asked, idly fingering the fake fur Harry was resting on.

"They were told to be very circumspect last summer. They could barely say anything at all. I wonder if their letters were being checked before they were sent. This year, they seem kind of distant. Ron only ever talks about quidditch and Hermione only ever talks about the OWLs and the upcoming year. I'd be willing to bet she's already planned out a revision schedule for all of us for the next two years."

Tom smirked. "Do you think they'll be more open in person?"

"That's hard to say. The room I was placed in at headquarters has a portrait in it. I guess it's there so Dumbledore can keep an eye on me. Seems kind of sinister now, actually." Harry cracked an eye open, then said, "It's Phineas Nigellus."

"Quite a bastard at times," Tom remarked.

"Yeah, but if he's there to spy. . . ." Harry let out a strangled laugh. "Like Hogwarts itself is safe. I wouldn't doubt that every portrait and ghost in the place reports to Dumbledore."

"That reminds me. Severus is willing to have a portrait placed in his quarters that he can speak to. He also suggested that one be placed in Dumbledore's office. If you're all right with that, would you ask Dobby to fetch some from me so he can place them?"

"Sure. I don't know why we didn't think of that before. I guess, if Dobby can assure that the one I have is invisible to everyone, he can make sure the one for the office is invisible to the headmaster. Elf magic is odd."

"I quite see what you do in Dobby, Harry. He's a very interesting little creature. Loyal, intelligent . . . and not without a sense of humor."

Harry's eyes fluttered open briefly as a sweet smile crossed his lips. "I don't think my judgment is so bad."

"I'll just have to live up to that myself, right?"

"I think you will," Harry affirmed. "I wonder," he said sleepily.

"Don't fall asleep on me again, Harry," Tom said sternly. "You might not like how I wake you up."

Harry's eyes blinked open, a wary expression on his face which relaxed almost immediately. "Do you ever wonder how much the sorting hat knows?"

"I shall repeat: you have a very strange mind. You also have a point, though. Unless it goes into stasis when it isn't needed, then I expect it hears everything that goes on in that office. You could always talk to it."

"About what? Mmm, there's me walking into Dumbledore's office saying, 'Hello, sir, I was hoping I could talk to the sorting hat to see if it can tell me if you're a complete bastard or not. Would that be okay?'"

Tom narrowed his gaze. "There's no need to be sarcastic, Harry."

"Sorry."

Tom laughed and flicked his fingers at Harry, who had opened his eyes in surprise. "You owe me one now. Aren't you the one who said no apologies? In any case, I did have an idea, if you wanted to hear it."

Harry actually flushed slightly. "What is it?"

Tom allowed an innocent look to appear and said, "I know how much it's eaten away at you, what the sorting hat said all those years ago, Harry. I was thinking that maybe you should talk to it, to try to find out why it felt that way. After all, you're the very archetype of a Gryffindor, aren't you? How could it have been so wrong?"

Harry smiled, just barely, his eyes suddenly alight with something mischievous. "I admit, it does keep me awake at night. All that soul searching, the uncertainty." Then he sobered. "Do you really think Dumbledore would fall for that?"

"As I said, I think you could be an excellent actor if you wanted to be. Wide, scared eyes, so very trusting as they looked at him. So terribly confused and wanting to clear things up."

Harry did something that Tom never expected to witness; he giggled. "Okay, Tom. Just get me a copy of Oliver Twist so I can refresh my memory, eh?"

«« :: »»

The first thing Harry did as he appeared was crouch and whip out his wand, staring wildly at the apparition before him. It wasn't until he heard Tom's calm voice speak that he relaxed.

"It's only a mockup, Harry."

Harry spun around and frowned. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He shook his wand menacingly at Tom, using his other hand to point back at the Dumbledore figure. "What is this about?"

"Don't you want to practice?"

"Forget about me owing you one, Tom. Get it out of here! This is our place!" A second later the figure exploded soundlessly. Harry stalked over to the rug and sat down, purposely not looking at Tom.

"I suppose that was a bit sudden."

"It feels like a defilement," Harry muttered. Tom didn't respond as he stared at the flickering flames. Once his heart stopped racing he said, "Though, if you were to do that at the house, I could use it for target practice. Better yet, a dartboard."

"Do you even know how to play?"

"No idea, but I could learn."

"I made a mistake."

Harry pushed a hand through his hair. "That's dangerously close to an apology, Tom. I think I'm going to win this week, don't you?"

"Oh? That might be so. And what will you want if you win?"

Harry smiled to himself. "You'll find out."

«« :: »»

"Are you coming tomorrow?"

"Of course I am," Harry said, almost looking offended. "I'll write out my letter ahead of time and ask Hedwig to delay it a day, that's all. Nothing to worry about. It's stupid, you know."

"The letters?"

Harry shook his head. "Age. According to muggle law, sixteen is more or less adult. If I were a muggle, I could have left school, gone into a job or whatever. But in the wizarding world, I have to be seventeen? Muggle students leave school if they don't want to bother with A levels, but wizards have to wait an extra year before they can do something else?"

"Perhaps it's because of how much longer we live. As much as anyone might chafe at the restrictions, it is true that it gives everyone an extra year to simply be childlike. And, no, Harry, I know it's not like that right now. I am merely pointing out one possible reason in a more normal world."

"I wasn't going to protest, Tom. Which law do you adhere to?"

Tom looked at him carefully, wondering what he was getting at. "That depends. But, as you've seen, I'm perfectly willing to go against wizarding law on the matter of so called underage magic. I suppose, then, I would have to say muggle, as strange as that sounds."

"Interesting. Do you ever find it ironic that those same qualities which made humans the dominant life form on the planet are the ones which will, in all likelihood, be the cause of our self-destruction?"

Tom thought, at that moment, that it might not be so very hard to fall for Harry after all.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	11. Forfeit

* * *

**— 11: Forfeit —**

* * *

Harry stepped through the door and immediately made for a chair, sitting down with a slight smile on his face. When Dobby popped up he said, "Would you please let Tom know I'm here?"

"Yes, master," Dobby said before popping out. Thirty seconds later he was back. "Master is hungry?"

Harry cast a grateful smile at Dobby and nodded. "Tom might be as well, so bring enough for two just in case?"

Dobby nodded and scampered off, leaving Harry with his thoughts. It felt good to be back here where he didn't have to worry about who might be lurking around the corner. A place where he didn't have to try to mask what he was feeling, or present a certain face to those who would find any excuse to berate him, question him, or torment him. True, he knew that on occasion he annoyed Tom, but it was no worse than what Tom did to him in a similar fashion. That was perfectly all right, and in some respects, not much different from how his friends annoyed him, and in reverse.

On that thought he smiled again. Maybe he and Tom were friends, or close enough. He was certainly finding it much easier to just talk, about whatever. He definitely didn't feel like Tom was suddenly going to start accusing him of being secretive or of hiding things, even if he was or had been. That stupid dream. He laughed softly, absently nodding when Dobby placed two plates on the table and saying, "Thank you." Was it any wonder that Tom kept telling him he had a strange mind?

He wondered if everyone had conversations with themselves, and if everyone thought they were as stubborn as he found himself to be. Dream might be right, though. Was there a point to kissing Tom if it wasn't real to begin with? After all, there was every chance that the dream would play out exactly as he might wish, whether that be good or bad, depending on how insecure he was feeling at any given moment.

He snickered on remembering what the dream Tom had said about him being attractive, then stopped suddenly. Why would he say that about himself? Before he could consider that any further, the real Tom stepped into the kitchen, derailing his train of thought.

"Hello, Harry," he said as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Harry flicked his gaze up, chin still down, and arched a brow. "I have such strange dreams lately. Hello, Tom. I hope you're hungry, because I don't think I can eat all of this by myself."

"I assure you, I've been waiting for you to arrive." Tom flashed him a smile and picked up his knife and fork. "But if we don't start eating, it'll get cold."

Harry shrugged. "Hot or cold, doesn't matter much to me. It's food." He began to eat, his thoughts wandering back to his earlier conundrum. Did he actually think he was handsome, somewhere in his subconscious, or was that not actually a dream he had experienced? Had his thoughts about Tom called the man into their place unwittingly? If it hadn't been a dream, was he upset with Tom for pretending to be part of his own mind? Well . . . he had been doing a bit of fibbing himself. It wasn't as though he had been entirely honest about his reaction to Bella's demise. He heaved a gentle sigh between bites, then frowned when he remembered he wasn't alone.

Deciding to just get it over with he said, "So, you think I'm attractive, huh?" The only sign that his words had hit home was the split second pause in the progress of Tom's fork to his mouth. "You gave me some interesting advice, as well."

"Advice?"

"Don't pretend. I have a confession to make, though."

"You saw more than you let on."

Harry clenched his jaw, not sure whether to be angry or mortified that that time had not been a dream either. He dropped his fork and pushed away from the table, then thumped the surface with one hand in frustration.

"Harry."

"Don't say it," he hissed, then looked up in surprise at the sound of a chair scraping on the floor. "Don't go. I'm sorry," he said hurriedly.

"Harry," Tom repeated.

He couldn't decipher the tone of Tom's voice and pushed back quickly, getting to his feet and moving to stand in front of him. Without stopping to think about it he straddled Tom's legs and sat down, snaking his arms around the other man's neck. "Just shut up. I'm changing that stupid rule! It only applies to the past, okay?" After burying his face in Tom's neck he repeated, "Don't go."

He heard a sigh, then Tom saying, "We've got to stop doing this, trying to anticipate each other. It's only causing pain or creating misunderstandings." Harry felt Tom's arms come up to hold him, and then heard his voice again. "Why are you sorry?"

"I wasn't exactly honest with you," Harry mumbled into his neck. He rather thought that Tom smelled nice, though he couldn't put a name to the scent.

"I let you mislead yourself, and _I_ am sorry for that. I'd say we're even. Harry, I don't expect you to bare your soul to me. Everyone has secrets, most of which are innocent and harmless. It's your right to keep them, or share them. I'll listen if you want to talk about it."

"I didn't see much, just her being Kissed, through your eyes." He shivered at the memory and tightened his grip.

"Why was it disgusting?" Tom asked.

"It brought back memories of when the dementors almost got Sirius and me. I took care of them, though, made them go away."

"Brave _and_ strong."

Harry shook his head. "I knew I could, because I'd already watched myself do it. That does wonders for your confidence."

"You should be confident of your power. You've always managed to stand up to Voldemort," Tom pointed out.

Harry snorted and sat back. "That's silly. I've never done much of anything except get lucky."

"Don't mistake a strategic retreat for defeat, Harry. Many are too stupid to know when to run and end up dead for their mistake in judgment. Not many people can face Voldemort and live to tell about it. And don't mistake loyal, able allies to mean that you're too weak to stand on your own."

Harry wrinkled his nose and took in Tom's expression. As usual, it didn't tell him much, but that could simply be that he never was very good at reading others, especially people as accustomed as Tom to wearing a poker face. "You don't mind this?" When Tom shook his head Harry said offhandedly, "I didn't want you to leave." Then he shrugged lightly and said, "I still think that was luck, or fate, or prophecy. Take your pick. I mean, what are the odds that we have brother wands?"

Tom narrowed his eyes slightly, then asked, "So, what did it say?"

Harry grinned; he had been wondering when Tom would get around to asking that. So he told him, closing his eyes so he could better recall the words, then gazed at him curiously. Tom stared at a point over his shoulder for a while, then smiled.

"About what I expected, I suppose. I never stood a chance. However, it does point something out."

"What's that?"

"Do you believe in Voldemort's power, in mine?" When Harry nodded he said, "That prophecy states that I marked you as my equal, so obviously you are as powerful as I am. So, if you believe in my power, you must, by extension, believe in your own."

"Logic is one thing," Harry protested, "but that doesn't mean it makes a connection in my head, Tom. I understand what you're saying, but. . . ."

"Simple, Harry, but difficult. We do share one trait, sadly enough. Massive insecurity."

Harry snorted in disbelief.

"It's true. You have so much trouble in seeing what you're capable of, or even why people like you, or would want to. And while I know exactly what I can do in terms of power, I am at a loss as to why anyone would want to know me as a person and not as that power."

"I think this is where I would normally spout off another proverb or quotation, but. . . ."

"This isn't funny, right?"

"Yes." Harry bit his lip, then said, "I hope mum and dad forgive me, but, I'm not sorry you're alive." He felt a momentary tightening of the hold Tom had on him.

"I'm not at all sorry you've always stayed one step ahead of me," Tom replied. "Though, I would have taken you for the type to hit me with a stunner to keep me from moving, not crawl onto my lap."

Harry could feel the rush of heat to his cheeks, which only got worse when Tom added in a confiding tone, "I prefer this. It's much more enjoyable."

If he hadn't already reversed his opinion of that dream—it wasn't—he would now. Tom was most definitely flirting with him. Feeling incredibly nervous, and a bit stupid, he said, "My judgment isn't so bad, right?"

"Not at all," Tom assured him. "In fact, I definitely think you win this week. After all, you captured me fair and square. Extra points right there."

Harry pondered that, realizing after a minute that he had, in fact, made a first move of sorts. "So, I have to decide what I win."

"Indubitably. What will my forfeit be?"

"Teach me how to kiss," he said firmly, eternally grateful that his voice hadn't cracked on such a bold statement, and praying that he didn't look like a complete fool.

Tom half closed his eyes, making Harry even more nervous. "As you wish, Harry," he murmured, then slid one of his hands up Harry's back, coming to a rest on his neck and exerting a gentle pressure.

Harry let himself be drawn down slowly, finally closing his eyes as Tom's lips brushed against his own. They were softer than he would have imagined, and warm. Then they moved against his as Tom's fingers threaded into his hair, and parted, and he could feel Tom's hot breath against his skin, followed by the sensation of his lower lip being taken between a set of teeth to be nibbled gently and sucked.

Harry's own lips parted without thought, and his lower lip was abandoned so that Tom could invade with his tongue. He didn't resist when the hand at the back of his neck tilted his head, or when Tom moved his tongue against his own. It felt . . . good. More than good, and he made his own attempt to mimic what Tom was doing, forgetting to breathe as Tom became bolder in his exploration and a hand dropped down his back to rest on his hip and pull him closer.

It was slow, though. Languid and unhurried. Tom was taking his time and Harry was content to just let him, concentrating on the feeling of that tongue in his mouth, sliding against his teasingly, trying to catch the rhythm. He frowned when Tom eventually pulled away, opening his eyes to look at him questioningly.

"Does my Harry want more?" Tom murmured.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Then my Harry needs to finish eating, because your Tom is starving, and we have plenty of time," Tom said teasingly.

Harry frowned more deeply, somewhat put out at the interruption to something he had been enjoying quite a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, though he never got the chance as Tom swiftly pulled him back down for a second, much shorter kiss, then firmly sat him up and raised his brows.

Grumbling, and scowling, Harry slid off Tom's lap and returned to his seat, reluctantly picking up his silverware. He shot a sidelong look at Tom, then began eating again, finally smiling sheepishly when he thought about how foolishly he was acting. That didn't stop the ache he felt, though, or the urge to squirm in his chair as it set in what he'd just done, nor the desire to go right back to doing it.

In consequence he ate fairly quickly, not really tasting the food, and reminding himself every so often to slow down. The last thing he wanted to do was appear like a silly child after a treat. He had just set down his fork when Dobby appeared at his side to ask, "Does master wish seconds?"

"Er, no, Dobby. Thank you. This was more than enough."

The elf snatched the plate away from him, and from Tom, and Harry looked over to see that Tom was wearing an amused smile. "You better not be laughing at me," Harry said in a low voice.

"Not at all. I find your enthusiasm delightful, actually. I must be doing something right."

Harry scowled again and pushed back his chair so he could stand up. Tom rose as well and extended a hand, which he took, and let himself be led off to one of the sitting rooms. Once he had sat down—Tom had waved him to a spot on the couch—Tom said, "I feel it is my duty as your instructor to tell you that creativity is encouraged."

Harry arched a brow, and, not trusting himself to speak, pointed at the spot next to him.

"My, my. Commanding, aren't we. But, I think not."

Before Harry could protest, Tom had straddled him and was lowering his head.

«« :: »»

Harry sighed and opened his eyes to stare directly into Tom's. "I feel . . . delirious." His head was resting on the arm of the couch and Tom was snuggled on top of him.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"If you don't stop squirming against me like that, I'm going to dump you into a tub of ice water."

"But it feels good," he whispered, arching his hips.

"It does, but I'm not willing to do more than kiss you at this point."

"Is that because—" He broke off and bit his lip. Tom quirked up a brow, so Harry tried again, though he thought better of using his original question. He settled for asking, "Why?"

"Because I'd like more to mean something more. For both of us. I find you attractive, Harry, for a number of reasons, and I've come to like you a great deal, but I think we would both be better served to wait until it's more than that. Call me foolish if you like, or archaic and old fashioned. I won't mind."

Harry shook his head. "No. I think it sounds kind of"—he dropped his gaze for a second—"romantic."

"Do you?"

"Well, not in a Madam Puddifoot's sense."

Tom threw his head back and laughed openly. "I should hope not. Still, even to myself it sounds strange." His gaze connected with Harry's again. "I very much do not want to rush, or make mistakes with you. With us."

Harry felt heat rising in his cheeks again. "I feel like a damn school girl," he muttered.

Tom chuckled and brushed his lips briefly with his own. "I find it endearing, how expressive you are. I think you can teach me quite a bit about that."

Harry cast around in his mind for a suitable response, then smiled and said, "Example moves the world more than doctrine." 1

"I _really_ don't understand how you failed History of Magic, Harry."

"I told you! Binns is a complete bore. I don't know how Hermione manages to stay awake."

"I have something for you," Tom said, extricating himself and standing up, much to Harry's remorse.

"Why?"

Tom smiled and shrugged at him in answer, then turned and headed for one of the shelves. After staring at them for a few moments he shifted a few things and picked something up. When he returned, he was holding a wrapped package. "Here," he said. "A real birthday present."

"What? But—" Harry sat up properly and took the package, turning it over in his hands slowly. The package was rather hefty and not exactly small. "Thank you," he said without looking up.

Tom sat down beside him. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's books," he replied. "I can tell that much. Hardcovers. Two, I think." Having said that he carefully picked open the wrappings, which were sedate in nature, not that he minded. Somehow he couldn't imagine Tom using gaudy paper or bright ribbons as some did. Inside was, in fact, two hardcover books, by Stephen R. Donaldson, a set. "Muggle fiction?"

"Sure. I told you I read quite a bit. I thought you might enjoy these. If not, we'll find you something else."

Harry looked up and repeated, "Thank you. It's nice to get something that isn't related to school, or even the wizarding world. Just something that could be . . . fun." He set the books on the end table and crawled onto Tom's lap for a hug.

"You're welcome, Harry."

"What about you?" For that matter, how did you find out the birth date of someone with so little to go on?

"If you're asking what I think you are, you'll think of something," was the enigmatic reply.

Maybe the sorting hat would know? "I'm still wondering how I'm going to explain my new friend, or if I'll have to at all."

"Ash?"

"It's not like I go out much, even now. How did I meet this Ash person?"

"Do you need to explain?"

Did he? He had been planning on sneaking out to see Tom, or slipping off, or having Dobby jump him around. "I suppose not. No one needs to know if I see you."

"I'm confident that we can talk to each other at that distance. Aren't you the one who expressed the idea that our bond is getting stronger, after all?"

"Er, yeah. That's true. At least, I think it's true. The only way to tell is to try. But we can't do that yet."

Tom reached up to ruffle Harry's hair, then rested his hand on the back of his neck. "No, not yet. But soon. Severus suggested I find myself a temporary place near Kings Cross."

Harry was surprised. He didn't think Snape would have suggested anything that would, in time, benefit him. In theory, at least. "Tom, if I—" He broke off and worried his lower lip between his teeth. "If I had to become someone else, what would happen to my money in Gringotts?"

"That depends. For one thing, you haven't reached your majority yet, so neither of us knows just how much of a fortune you have, Harry. I would be willing to bet that Dumbledore holds that information. It may be that he holds the key."

"He did have the vault key Hagrid gave me," Harry said thoughtfully.

"How much is in it?" Tom asked.

Harry made a helpless gesture. "I never tried to count it. I mean, there's heaps of coins in there, but I just always grabbed a handful or so when I went in. Well, when they even let me go."

"Did the amount ever seem to change, or could you not tell?"

"I couldn't tell. But, I never really thought about it until now. I've just sort of known it would pay for my school things with some for treats. Do you think there's another vault?"

"It's entirely possible. Some parents set aside a vault for each child so they aren't constantly doling out money. You may be a wealthy man, Harry."

"Either way, it doesn't answer the question. If Dumbledore—what if he gets reports? Muggles get bank statements."

"Let me ask you this, then. Do you care what happens to the money? I do have enough to see both of us comfortable for years to come, but you might not like the idea of depending on someone else."

"Yeah, but, what if it ended up all in Dumbledore's hands? I don't think I could stand that. How old do I have to be to write a will and make it stick? Do I even have the right to write to Gringotts for an accounting at this age?"

"You can always manipulate the man," Tom suggested with a faint smile.

Harry tilted his head back and stared at Tom with half-lidded eyes.

"Ask him. Tell him that you're afraid you may not live through all this and that you wanted to make a will. With his help, of course. After all, you trust him implicitly, right?"

Harry chuckled and straightened. "Yes, of course. An innocent, clueless pawn would. Still, you're right. I'm not thrilled with the idea of depending on someone else's money. But unless he has absolutely no control over what happens to it, I don't see how I can get it moved."

"If you cannot, you can leave it to your friends, Harry. If Dumbledore is your wizarding guardian, as I suspect, you will have to go through him unless Harry Potter lives to see seventeen."

Harry sighed and looked down. "I hate this. Not you, but everything that's—I feel trapped between truth and expectations. I've never had a chance to make my own decisions, so I never know what to do. Sure, I made some, but I'm beginning to think I was carefully herded in those directions."

"I hope I don't treat you that way."

Harry looked up and shook his head. "I don't think so. You listen to me. You've even changed your plans based on what I think or how it would affect me. I know, some of that is just not wanting to rock the boat, but . . . most people just. . . ." He smiled sadly and said, "The truth isn't always a pleasant thing to know, right?"

"Yes," Tom agreed, with an equally sad smile.

"This is nice, though." Tom tilted his head in confusion, so he said, "You don't try to make it all better by covering things up." After a pause he asked, "Do you think I could pull it off?" He wasn't at all sure about his acting abilities.

"I do," said Tom with confidence. "Harry, you may be horrible at concealing things, such as I can or even Severus, but you are very good at transmuting things."

"Huh?" was his intelligent response.

"I expect that you would be nervous, even scared. Do you know how that translates when it comes to your face, your expression? To Dumbledore, that would probably come across as you desperately asking him without words to guide you. After all, he believes that you are secure in the knowledge that he is to be trusted."

Harry snorted softly. "Even after I tried to destroy his office?"

"Have I even heard this story yet?"

"I guess not. I don't remember telling you. . . ." Several minutes later he was finished, and once again gazing at Tom curiously.

"I think you can do it," Tom said firmly in response. "You were understandably upset at the time. Especially if you went to him with a heartfelt apology, or some semblance thereof, as an opener."

"Hn. I could. And I might have had things not happened like this. I wasn't a very nice person last year." Then he paused and poked Tom in the chest. "Hey, how come I always arrive standing when you send me dreams?"

"I thought you would be more comfortable that way. Then it would be your choice to remain standing, or take a seat, rather than me making the choice for you."

"Oh. Tom, can we continue the lesson?"

"Continue? Are you trying to tell me I haven't managed to teach you properly yet?"

"Well . . . I just want to be sure I didn't miss anything important."

"Is that so?"

Harry grinned when he was flipped onto his back a moment later.

* * *

For reference, the books Tom gives Harry are _Mordant's Need_; specifically, The Mirror of Her Dreams & A Man Rides Through.

1. "Example moves the world more than doctrine. The great exemplars are the poets of action, and it makes little difference whether they be forces for good or forces for evil." — Henry Miller (1891-1980), U.S. author. "An Open Letter to Surrealists Everywhere," The Cosmological Eye (1939).

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	12. Unexpected

* * *

**— 12: Unexpected —**

* * *

Tom was both happy and sad when Harry decided he had finally been "taught" enough for one evening. He ached with an unholy desire to drag Harry to his suite and push him down onto his bed. Clothes would have been incidental to his plans. However, he had meant what he said, and had every intention of sticking to it. He rather thought that Harry had no true idea of what he was doing to him. Perhaps he was being excessively vain when he thought he would have no trouble making the experience a pleasurable one for Harry, but it was far too soon for such intimacy. Harry wasn't a toy, or a peon, or anything else that could be treated so casually.

He smiled softly when he heard the unmistakable sound of a yawn and glanced down. Harry's head was resting on his chest as though it were a pillow and there was a faint smile on his lips. Once again, Harry had surprised him, and he was not at all unhappy at having suffered that reaction. He mentally added bold to Harry's attribute list. Very bold, deciding to be that blunt. Very brave, deciding to go with a presumable gut instinct and confront him.

Harry had made it exceptionally clear that he had become attached. He had looked desperate when he uttered that plea, not that it had been Tom's intention to go anywhere. Was he still wearing so much of a mask around Harry? Or was Harry just very bad at interpreting tone or expression? He supposed it didn't matter all that much, especially if they both tried, at least, to stop making assumptions so often about what the other was thinking, or meant by something.

Harry shifted against him, bringing one hand up to clutch at Tom's shirt, and yawned a second time. It seemed his Harry was going to fall asleep. "Harry?" he said softly.

"Mm."

"Wake up a little. Let's get you to bed." He watched as Harry's brow puckered, and arched a brow. Was that irritation? He tried again. "Harry?" He sighed when he received no answer. Tom briefly considered simply taking Harry to his own bed, but decided it would be better to place the young man in the same bed he had used previously, even if it would have been nice to curl up against him in sleep. When Harry gave a soft snore Tom rolled his eyes and began shifting, carefully moving the limp body in his arms as he rose to a sitting position.

Harry didn't even twitch, never mind wake up, so Tom struggled to his feet and began the trek to Harry's room.

«« :: »»

Harry stretched, feeling really very good, though he wasn't quite sure why. Until, that is, his memory of the evening before returned to him, at which point he felt that now familiar heat flush his cheeks. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, not that it helped, as the pillow was fairly warm already. Harry flopped over and sighed. He'd blushed more in the past twenty four hours than he could remember doing his whole life.

"I definitely got my forfeit, though." With a wicked grin he slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom, intent on nothing more than getting in a shower and hunting down breakfast afterward. The mirror stopped him, though, and he gazed with wide eyes at his reflection.

"I feel different," he whispered, "so why don't I look different?" He touched his lips with hesitant fingers, then shook his head. "I'm just being an ass," he told himself, then stripped off his clothing so he could take a shower.

A short time later he walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Tom was already seated, gazing silently out the window at what looked to be a beautiful day. Harry stepped up behind him, raising one of his hands with a mind to touch him, then started violently as a hand whipped back to hold his wrist.

"Good morning, Harry," Tom said, pulling his wrist forward and around, then dropping a kiss on the back of Harry's hand. "I could see your reflection in the window, in case you were wondering."

Harry exhaled heavily. "You shouldn't scare me like that."

"You don't like it when I make your heart race, Harry?" Tom twisted in his seat and smiled over his shoulder. "Hungry?"

"Yes," he whispered, not sure which question he was answering. Tom released his wrist so he placed it on the other man's shoulder and leaned in to brush lips, then straightened and pulled out a chair for himself.

"Harry?"

The look on Tom's face made him wary and uncertain. He felt for a moment like everything was about to come crashing down and leave him sitting there gasping in pain. "Yes?"

"You do realize you snore, right?"

Harry blinked and shot him a look of blatant incredulity. After a moment he shook his head and snorted. "I think you just like seeing me blush."

"That I do. In fact—"

But whatever it was he had been about to say was cut off by the arrival of Dobby with two heaping plates. "Master is to be eating!" the elf said brightly, deftly sliding one of them under Harry's nose. "Dobby is being back later to see if master is wanting more." After putting the other plate in from of Tom, Dobby bounced off.

Harry buried his face in his hands and bit his lip, wondering how on earth he had ever managed to gain the little elf as his friend, and what he had done to deserve such a cheerful little shadow as his ally.

"Harry?" Tom sounded worried.

He looked up and summoned a smile. "I'm fine. I just wonder about him sometimes."

Tom arched a brow and smirked. "No, you wonder about yourself, more accurately," he said, then lifted his fork. "No fear. We can sort each other out. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Strange," Harry replied honestly. "A little disconnected. But good."

Tom eyed him for a moment. "No regrets?"

"None," Harry said firmly, then eyed him back. "You?"

"None whatsoever."

"How does a person change identity?" he asked, then forked up some eggs.

"Illegally." Harry gave him a slightly exasperated look for his brevity, which prompted Tom to say, "The powers that be don't like it when people recreate themselves, and they definitely don't like that it requires certain rituals."

"Which are?"

"It might spoil your breakfast," Tom pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "I have a cast iron stomach, as they say."

"All right. The first step involves finding the right target specimen, then digging up their remains from wherever they're buried."

Harry coughed and massaged his forehead with his free hand.

"When I say the right target specimen, I mean someone with the surname you're after. Gender doesn't really matter, nor does the target's given name, though it helps if they match up properly. It's just more difficult if they don't."

"I sincerely doubt we're going to find a dead Ash Riley."

"No, but we can find a Riley. After that it's a matter of rituals to switch the family association. Blood is best, but barring that, other . . . materials . . . will suffice. When you come right down to it, it's fairly disgusting."

"Does it matter if the specimen"—Harry grimaced—"is a muggle?"

Tom shook his head. "It isn't like you're adopting anything other than the name."

"And then you politely put things back where they came from?"

"That about covers it."

"And what happens if someone questions you with veritaserum?"

"That's the beauty of it, Harry. You may know you were born with a different name, but magically speaking, your new name is the truth, so that's what you'd end up saying if asked."

Harry was more or less glad at that point that he had stopped tasting his food. The idea of actually digging up bodies was more of an off-putting concept than he had been prepared for. He gave Tom a lopsided smile and said, "I suppose I see why it's illegal, but neither of us is very good at sticking to the rules."

Tom chuckled and took another bite.

"I don't . . . want your hair colour to change."

Tom glanced at him, then quickly looked back over his shoulder. Harry, confused, looked as well, and saw Snape just stepping into the room. He swept over to a spot by Tom and said, "Albus changed his plans. He's sending people after Potter this afternoon."

"Today?"

"Did I stutter, Potter?"

"Then we certainly have time to finish breakfast," Tom said evenly. "Will you be joining us, Severus?"

"No," he said flatly, then, "I ate hours ago."

"Do you have any idea why he changed the plans?" Tom asked.

"He seems to have become uneasy over the fact that Potter hasn't stepped foot outside the house since he returned to it."

"You mean my watcher was actually good for something for once?" Harry asked incredulously.

Snape sneered at him and said, "It seems so."

Harry dropped his gaze, angry, though not at Snape. "Thank you, professor," he said a few seconds later, lifting his chin.

For that he received another sneer and the question, "For what, Potter?"

Harry tilted his head, his brows raising fractionally. "For standing by your side of the agreement, sir."

"Harry?" Tom interjected, capturing his attention away from Snape. "Do you mind if I—" He stopped, frowned, then sent, _:—if I tell him about your plans to speak to the sorting hat?:_

_:I'm not sure why you'd want to, but I guess I don't mind.:_

Tom nodded and said, "I assume he won't be sending you as part of the group, Severus."

Snape snorted.

"Even if you aren't hungry, you can sit down, Severus. I'm getting a crick in my neck."

"Perhaps if you were taller?"

Harry snickered and quickly forked up more of his eggs. The remainder of the meal was largely silent, the inclusion of Snape having put a damper on free speech. Harry didn't think it was very polite to talk behind his back, either, mind to mind. Dobby eventually bounced over and gathered up the plates with a questioning look.

"I'm fine, Dobby. Thank you. I need to go pack up my things."

"Master is leaving early?"

"Afraid I have to," Harry replied. "I'll need your help with that, actually."

"Master has only to ask," Dobby said, then bounced off with the dishes.

"I'm going to pack. I'll see you in a little while," Harry said as he rose.

"Don't forget those books," Tom said.

Harry gave each of them a nod, then headed for the sitting room, taking long enough to scoop up his gifts before making his way to the bedroom he used. Dobby was already waiting, and had already packed up his few belongings.

"How is master needing Dobby to help?"

Harry dropped onto the bed and handed Dobby the books. "Professor Dumbledore is sending people to pick me up today, not next week. We can't wait until it's dark for me to sneak back in, so I would like you to jump me into my room once we're close enough. Is that all right?"

"Dobby is being happy to help master. But Dobby is being sad."

"Why is that?"

"Dobby knows that he cannot see master until master returns to Hogwarts."

Harry smiled. "It's only two weeks, Dobby, and you can visit Tom if you want. I know he likes you. You're right, though. I don't think it would be so easy for you to sneak into headquarters to see me. I'll probably be sharing a room with Ron again, also. I think if you were seen, everyone would start thinking something was drastically wrong. The only other time you did, that they know of, was back in second year."

Dobby nodded. "Dobby will come if master calls."

"I guess we should get back to the others. Snape said this afternoon, but I get the feeling we'll be going much sooner than that."

«« :: »»

"Since when is Potter the elf's master?"

"Since Dobby requested it. The little fellow was quite insistent, as I recall. His level of devotion goes above and beyond the normal bond."

"How nice for you," Severus said snidely. "You get two for the price of one."

Tom shrugged. "I don't mind. Dobby has something most house elves lack, a distinct personality and a definite backbone, not to mention intelligence and initiative. Being bonded to Harry will simply encourage those qualities. He is . . . unique."

"You're going soft," Severus accused.

"Am I? Would you like some fun from old times? A little Cruciatus, perhaps? Or shall we go find a hapless muggle to torture and kill for no particular reason?"

"I don't believe you would."

"True. But if you vex me enough, I might get creative with you, Severus."

"And here I thought we were becoming friends," Severus said with no little sarcasm.

Tom slung an elbow onto the table and used his hand to support his head. "Aren't we?" he said seriously. "If not, tell me now, Severus, so I don't burden you with anything approaching normality. We'll all simply get through this, and then you'll be free to do as you please with the rest of your life." For some reason, Tom thought Severus looked a little shocked by that. He was not surprised when the subject was abruptly changed.

"How do you expect to get Potter back into the house without anyone noticing?"

"Dobby. As I said, he's a unique little fellow. All I need to do is get Harry close enough, and a portkey will take care of that."

"Then you won't be needing my assistance," Severus stated.

"For that, no. But there is something I'd like to talk to you about once I get back, if you can spare the time."

"I can."

"I shouldn't be gone for"—he smiled as Harry and Dobby walked back into the kitchen—"very long. I'll find you when I return." Tom stood up and said to Harry, "Let us go find something suitable for a portkey."

Harry nodded and knelt for a moment to whisper something to the elf, then rose and exited back into the hall. Tom followed, pausing only long enough to take Harry's hand in his own, then continued on to his study. Once inside he closed the door with a backward push of his foot, then stepped forward and turned. Harry looked angry and forlorn at the same time.

Tom kept his smile hidden, instead reaching out to brush the side of Harry's face with his fingers. "I'll be close enough for us to talk, Harry."

"I know. It's still not the same, though."

And it wouldn't be. He also felt the stirrings of sadness, though he was more adept at setting those feelings aside, knowing he could do nothing to change anything. "We don't have to go just this moment," he offered.

Harry's gaze met his, his face now oddly blank. "I feel silly."

"Why?"

"I feel like a kid with a new toy that someone is trying to take away," Harry replied, a faint hint of colour staining his cheeks.

Tom grinned. "I find your honesty admirable, though I'm not so sure how to take being compared to a toy."

"Remind me otherwise," Harry said boldly, his expression still blank.

"Is my Harry flirting with me?" he murmured.

"Your Harry wants to be kissed."

"Far be it from me to say no," he replied, pulling Harry closer and tilting his head before leaning in. He had barely touched his lips to Harry's when he felt those beneath his part in invitation, and he gladly accepted, probing forward gently with his tongue. He smiled into the kiss when he felt Harry's hands at his back and hip.

For having so little practice, Harry had picked things up remarkably fast. Tom felt a pleasant sensation wend its way down his spine and encircle his body, and stifled the urge to grind his hips against the younger man's, inwardly cursing the day he had decided to become a nice guy. Then Harry did it for him, coaxing a soft groan from his throat as he felt himself being pushed backward.

He hit the desk seconds later, hard enough to knock over the lamp. Harry didn't pause or even appear to have noticed the crash as it hit the floor. Tom smiled into the kiss a second time, briefly, amused and delighted that Harry could be so aggressive. He was setting himself up for a lifetime with someone who would not be easily subdued, and for the first time in his life, that was a good realization.

Still, Harry wasn't quite there yet. Tom raised a hand to thread his fingers into Harry's hair, then pulled, sliding his mouth away and down so that he could bite Harry's neck, and bite harder when he heard Harry's ragged breathing and felt the clutching of his fingers. Eventually, reluctantly, Tom lifted his head and relaxed his hold.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked rapidly several times, then furrowed his brow and sighed. "I suppose. . . ."

"That I should make a portkey," Tom finished, then gave him a quick kiss. "Let me go," he said as his arms dropped. "The longer we delay, no matter how enjoyable that delay is, the more of a chance that something will go wrong."

"Yes, but I don't have to like it," Harry said somewhat sulkily, releasing him.

Tom understood, or thought he did. He wasn't exactly keen on Harry being anywhere near Dumbledore. "If it makes you feel any better, I would love to say the hell with all of this and simply grab you and run, but it doesn't work that way. We have to be patient, annoying as that is." He rummaged through one of his drawers until he located another disc, then set it for a spot near Privet Drive. "Does Dobby have your things?" he asked as he rounded the desk so he could stand next to Harry again.

"Yeah. He's probably already taken them back."

Tom wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, then held out the disc and said, "Then let us go."

They arrived in Little Whinging, in the center of a clump of high bushes that provided decent cover from the surrounding area. Tom slipped the disc into his pocket. "Once I'm done talking to Severus I'll head to London, all right? I won't be far away. And, Harry, consequences be damned. If something scares you badly enough to want to run, call Dobby to get you out of there."

"Scares me?"

"That could mean any number of things, like Dumbledore deciding that veritaserum would be fun to use to see why you've been antisocial."

Harry cracked a slight smile. "Yeah. All right. Not scared, threatened."

Tom chuckled. "Threatened."

Harry closed his eyes for a second, opening them at the sound of a slight pop. "I'm ready, Dobby," he said, clasping the elf's hand.

Tom waited after they disappeared, giving it several minutes before sending, _:Harry?:_

_:I'm fine. Dobby just left, and I made sure that he knew he might be called on in an emergency.:_

_:I'll go talk to Severus, then, and head out directly after. I'll try to reach you from there, and if I cannot, let me know when you arrive, okay?:_

_:I will, I promise. Talk to you soon.:_

Tom apparated into his audience chamber and headed for the kitchen to stop the first elf he saw. "Where did Severus go?"

"He is being in your study, master."

Tom nodded and turned, then paused to look over his shoulder and say, "Thanks," before continuing on. He found Severus reading in one of the armchairs, and noticed that the lamp was back on his desk, repaired. "Severus, thank you for waiting," he said as he slipped into the chair behind his desk.

After lowering the book Severus said, "What was it you wished to discuss?"

"At some point it is very likely that Harry is going to request to speak with the sorting hat. And while the purpose is merely to talk, there could be possible repercussions to that action."

"Such as?"

"Severus, the hat wanted to place him in Slytherin." Tom was silent for a time, letting that revelation sink in before speaking again. "As I said, Harry simply wants to see if the hat knows anything of interest, but there is the barest possibility that it might attempt to re-sort him at that time."

"You're telling me that Potter rejected a placement?"

"Yes."

Severus closed his book and rose to place it back on the shelf. Without turning he said, "So I may end up with Potter in my house. How delightful. Do you have any concept of how much trouble that would cause?"

"Of course I do, which is why I'm warning you ahead of time. And if it does happen, I am willing to sneak into the castle to personally erect protections on the room he ends up in."

"Yes, praise Slytherin for advocating separate rooms for upperclassmen. That won't stop him from being attacked in the common room should the students choose to fly in the face of tradition."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for those Slytherin students so inclined to corrupt Harry, not attack him?" Tom countered.

Severus turned to face him with a magnificent scowl disfiguring his face. "What makes you think Albus would even allow the boy to be moved, even if the hat did re-sort?"

Tom slowly shook his head. "Severus, if Albus is what I suspect him to be, that should be obvious. But I won't have a chance of knowing if Harry doesn't speak to the hat. If he is, in fact, engineering a situation where Harry and Voldemort kill each other, then why would he object? He might be so foolish as to believe that Harry could play spy in the serpent's den, or that he could be down there converting the heathens. He might believe that Harry isn't nearly tough enough at this point and could do with more of being roughed up to harden his heart against the ultimate enemy. It is also possible that he could become angry at the risk to Harry's life and choose to place Harry in separate quarters, apart from the rest of the house, or even ignore the hat's decision."

Severus snorted and tossed his hair back. "I fail to see why Albus would allow the boy to speak with the hat in the first place."

"Because he knows that Harry rejected the placement. This would be an opportunity in his mind to reinforce his control. Allowing Harry access—naturally, Harry is still torn up over this, even after all this time—would presumably settle things once and for all. Harry finally lays a demon to rest and ends up secure in the knowledge that he is indeed a Gryffindor, and all is right with the world." Tom rolled his eyes slightly, then arched a brow.

"And if not," Severus said thoughtfully, "then the boy would look to Albus as his only guide."

"Yes."

"What is it that you wish me to do, then?"

"Don't destroy Dumbledore's office if you're called up and told that Harry has been re-sorted. I'm not sure how much good a pep talk would do with the students, though, but if the worst were passed a message from Voldemort. . . ."

"I presume your other request still stands."

"Of course."

"Very well. Was that all?"

"Yes, you may go if you wish." He watched as Severus nodded and swept out, then rose and headed for his suite to pack.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	13. Relocation

* * *

**— 13: Relocation —**

* * *

Harry was bored and restless. Granted, he wasn't supposed to be aware that anyone was coming for him, but that knowledge weighed heavily on his mind. He had been lying there only for a short time when his thoughts rolled back around to the idea of the sorting hat and why Tom would have wanted to discuss it with Snape.

"What is it that he didn't say?" he whispered, then folded his arms back behind his head. "I'm only going to talk to it, right? Or is he worried that it might try to re—" Harry let out a groan and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. Thinking back, he did recall his last conversation with the hat about Slytherin. Even then it had seemed quite confident in its original assessment.

He decided that the possibility existed and had prompted Tom to talk to Snape on the slim chance he ended up in Slytherin. If he was willing to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that being re-sorted had both bad and good points. The obvious was very much so—who in their right mind would not feel trepidation at the idea of switching from Gryffindor to Slytherin?

On the other hand it could also serve as a test of sorts. How many people would have their compass swing right back to believing he was well on the road to becoming a psychopath, and how many would believe it was simply a mistake, or unfortunate? Voldemort had returned and his words had been vindicated, so it was potentially even odds as to the results.

"It is wrong to think that, though?" he asked himself. "To wonder how that would hold up as a test of Ron's and Hermione's loyalty?" He wasn't nearly as concerned about the others. Ginny—he tended to think she would not believe the worst, but then, they weren't exactly close in the first place. Neville—who knew? Seamus and Dean were harder. Seamus had apologized, but Harry thought that it might not take much for the boy to reverse his opinion again. Dean had seemed fairly neutral thus far.

When it came right down to it, the only opinions that tended to matter were those of Ron and Hermione. He knew, without giving it even the briefest of consideration, that Hermione was a great one for finding a reason for everything. Ron, though. . . .

Perhaps he was being unkind again.

Tom probably wanted to make sure that Snape wouldn't tear him apart should it happen. Or Dumbledore? He frowned and shifted his gaze to the open window, watching as a light breeze flirted with the curtains. He didn't think he could quite figure out Dumbledore. Had Tom not said anything to see if he would figure it out on his own?

Harry rolled his eyes and sat up, then rose and crossed to his trunk. He rummaged in it for a few moments and pulled out a book, then returned to his bed to read. Better this than letting his mind run in circles with questions he could not yet answer.

«« :: »»

_:Harry?:_

He let his book drop to his lap in surprise. _:You're in London?:_

_:Good, you can hear me. Yes, I am.:_

Harry cheered inwardly. There was absolutely no question about them being able to talk once he was back at Hogwarts. _:So, you're all done telling Snape about your suspicions that I might end up re-sorted?:_

There was a pause before Tom responded, and some feeling that Harry couldn't define leaked through. _:Yes, I am. Have you decided whether or not you'll do it?:_

_:Do what? Still ask to talk to the hat?:_

_:Correct.:_

_:I think I will. If I refused it once, I suppose I could a second time. I freely admit that the idea of ending up down there is a bit scary. You yourself said I could be knifed in my sleep.:_

_:That assumes Dumbledore would allow it. However, should it come to pass, I am sure your room can be adequately warded against intrusion, or tricks. For that matter, there are rituals which could make you much more aware of your surroundings.:_

_:Things you've done to yourself.:_

Harry could feel amusement clearly as Tom sent, _:Yes, and probably Dumbledore as well.:_

_:You really need to share your library with me.:_

_:I will. By the way, Severus is under the impression that talking to the hat is your idea.:_

Harry blinked; that wasn't entirely correct. _:Well, I suppose, in an odd way, it was. I did bring it up first. Does it matter?:_

_:It might to him, Harry. He does persist in thinking you lack any modicum of common sense, or brains. The more evidence to the contrary, the more chance he will cease baiting you out of choice.:_

_:I . . . don't know. Maybe you should ask him why he hates me.:_ Harry sure as hell wasn't going to explain. _:Who knows? He may even tell you.:_

_:I will certainly consider it. You know, I think he's starting to loosen up a bit.:_

Harry snorted. _:Is he? Are you sure it's not just him sniffing too many fumes from experimental potions? It would be nice, though. You'd like another friend, wouldn't you?:_

_:I wouldn't mind, no.:_

They continued to talk, and it wasn't until Tom mentioned the time that Harry realized just how long they'd been at it, and that he was rather hungry. A glance at the clock confirmed it was just shy of noon, and with Dobby having been told not to come today. . . .

_:I guess . . . I'll go get lunch.:_

_:Do you want me to stay?:_

_:It's all right. I have to get over my fear. But I won't say no if you want to lurk when they come for me.:_

Harry sensed that strange feeling again as Tom sent, _:As you wish, and I'd be happy to. I'll talk to you shortly, Harry.:_

As Harry marked the page of his abandoned book he realized that the earlier feeling had been pride. On that note, feeling uncommonly bold—perhaps it was just a side effect of the day before, and even that morning—Harry slid off the bed and unlocked his door, then opened it and tripped lightly down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Aunt Petunia, is there anything special you'd like for lunch?" he asked on seeing her seated at the table reading a glossy magazine.

She appeared startled, as though she had forgotten he even lived there, but quickly regained her composure. "Something healthy, of course," she said, though her tone lacked its usual sharp disdain.

Harry nodded—a shrug was ruthlessly suppressed—and opened the refrigerator to hunt out ingredients for a salad. Ten minutes later he had made enough for four people, though he had no idea if his uncle or cousin would appear. He dished a portion for himself onto a plate and splashed on some of the somewhat tasteless low-fat dressing his aunt had, then turned back to her.

"Would you like me to get you a plate, or are you going to wait?" he asked.

She looked up again in surprise, giving Harry the impression that her interpretation of Tom's commands was something akin to forgetting he existed at all. "Let it chill."

"All right," he said, and did as she asked, then poured a glass of juice and got a fork. By the time he was ready to head back upstairs she was engrossed in her magazine again. After a slight shrug which went unnoticed, he returned to his room to eat at his desk, and a short time later he skipped back downstairs to drop off the dishes, quickly returning to his room once he had accomplished that minor task.

Having nothing better to do, Harry opened his book and read.

«« :: »»

A knock at the door had Harry glancing up from the page. With only a slight sense of nervousness he called out, "It's open."

It swung open slowly, like a drawn out moment in time, then Moody stepped through and said gruffly, "It could have been anyone, Potter."

"Aw, give the kid a break," came a female voice, followed shortly by Tonks bouncing into the room, and right behind her, Remus.

"Hello, Harry."

_:Tom? They're here.:_ He lowered the book to his lap and gazed at them expressionlessly. "Hello. Why are you here?"

"Get packed," Moody ordered.

Harry looked at him for a moment, then back at Remus and repeated, "Why are you here?"

"Harry?" Remus stepped forward and crinkled his brow, then twisted and said, "Could you two wait outside for a minute?" After they complied, though not without Moody muttering the entire time, Remus approached the bed and sat at the foot.

"I don't wish to be rude, but it's a simple question," Harry said.

"Harry, I'm so—"

"Stop. Please do me the courtesy of telling me why you're here."

Remus sighed heavily and massaged his forehead. "All right. Albus wants to move you to headquarters. He's worried about you, as am I."

"Thank you," he said with a hint of warmth. "I am happy to see you again, Moony. Are you coping?"

Harry had to struggle to keep a straight face when he heard, _:Setting a new trend, I see.:_

"I've . . . been better. Are you all right?"

Harry tilted his head to the side, then marked his page and closed the book, setting it to one side. He then said softly, "Remus, I am very sorry that my actions, in part, led to such a tragic end and caused you to lose someone close to you. I hope you will consider granting me forgiveness."

"Harry, it wasn't your fault."

Harry smiled slightly. "Don't excuse what I did so lightly. I'm not asking for a hair shirt, Remus, but I would like for you to take me seriously. I've had a lot of time to think about what happened, and I accept responsibility for my actions. Out of everyone, it's you that I feel deserves my apology."

Remus gave him a somewhat wide-eyed look, prompting Tom to comment, _:Care to bet that he's seeing you in a whole new light?:_

"I forgive you, Harry, if you forgive me not chaining him to a chair to prevent him chasing after you."

Harry shook his head. "We aren't trading chocolate frog cards, Remus, but I do forgive you, just like I forgive Sirius for being an idiot."

A ghost of a smile crossed Remus's face before he said, "When did you get older than me?"

Harry shrugged and plucked at his shirt. "Why is he worried? Or should the answer to that be obvious."

"You haven't left this house since you got here."

"They haven't set me any chores this year," Harry countered, "or sent me on errands."

"I see. That might be because Albus sent your aunt and uncle a letter explaining in a vague way that your godfather had passed away."

For a split second a white-hot flare of anger spiked in Harry's chest. "How thoughtful," he said stiffly. Remus looked at him askance so Harry forced himself to relax. "I'm more or less still packed. Hedwig is out, but I suppose she'll find me just like she always does. How are we traveling?"

"Ministry car."

Harry grimaced and nodded, then swung his legs around so he could stand and cross to his trunk and put away his book. After sweeping his gaze around the room he returned to the bed and knelt, then pulled up the loose floorboard so he could retrieve his treasures and pack them away as well. His wand was in its holster, and that was already strapped to his arm, hidden by the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing. "That's it," he said. "The trunk and the cage."

"Then I guess we're ready." Remus stood up and grabbed the trunk's handle, waiting for Harry to pick up Hedwig's cage, then headed for the door.

The ride itself was quiet and tense. He might have been willing to talk more with Remus, but not with the others there, and certainly not with a Ministry driver at the helm.

_:You do realize that I'll be able to discern the location of headquarters,:_ came Tom's comment.

_:I suppose so. I don't really understand how secrets work. It doesn't really matter since I don't think you could enter except through possession, right? I don't care, I think you know that. They might.:_

_:I know. Of course, I could lurk across the street and snipe at anyone entering or leaving.:_

_:I'm confident that my Tom will behave.:_

The amusement was back in spades. _:Do I lose points if I misbehave?:_

Harry's mouth twitched. _:Yes! I'm on the verge of laughing here, stop it.:_

Remus leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Are you all right?"

Harry turned his gaze from the window and nodded, offering Remus a small smile.

"We'll be there soon."

Harry nodded a second time and looked back to the window, not that there was anything of particular interest outside. Just buildings and people and other cars. When they did arrive it was not at the exact location, but rather a short distance away. He nearly laughed—like the Ministry couldn't set spies to eventually pinpoint the location. A brief walk was all it took, and Harry was once again inside number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Nothing had changed.

He let himself be hustled up the stairs to his old room by Remus, then gently pushed onto one of the beds. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Harry tilted his head back so he could see Remus more clearly. "Have you considered what Sirius would have to say if we could see him for just five minutes? Or how he would be feeling if the positions were reversed? What would you have said to him?"

Remus took a seat and dropped his head, so Harry remained quiet. He didn't know if what he had said would make a difference, but it had for him.

_:Nice place you got there. Who does the decorating?:_

Harry bit his lip and stared at the floor. _:Yeah, I especially love the portrait over there. You remember him, right?:_

_:I know you'll be careful in what you say, Harry.:_

"You're right."

Harry's head shot up to see that Remus was staring at him.

"I know exactly what Sirius would say. He'd tell me to stop beating myself up over this. That doesn't make it hurt any less."

Harry considered that, then said, "He told me something once—that the ones we love never truly leave us. I choose to believe that. He wouldn't like to see us unhappy, so I'm going to try for his sake."

Remus continued to stare at him, so Harry said, "Do you think I'll be able to go to Diagon Alley this year? I'd like to see it again. You know, before—"

"Harry," Remus said warningly.

"—school," Harry finished. Remus's gaze shifted, not quite meeting his eyes. "All right. I won't ask again, then. I assume one of you will pick up whatever it is I need. Hopefully soon, so I can start reading ahead."

Remus gave him a startled look, then smiled. "Of course, Harry. Hungry?"

He shrugged. "A little. Aunt Petunia still has everyone on Dudley's diet."

«« :: »»

Harry flopped onto his bed and opened the book. Remus hadn't told him when the others were coming, or even if they were. Either he did not know, or had been ordered to play stupid. Things would not be much different here, except, here he didn't have the choice to step outside, and that amused him. They were worried because of that, so they caged him. One might think they would learn. Then again, he had no intention of fighting them, not unless they forced his hand.

_:Bored already?:_

_:Yeah. Wouldn't you be, stuck in here?:_

_:Of course I—:_

A knock interrupted, so Harry called out, "It's open." A moment later the door opened and Dumbledore stepped in. Harry's eyes widened slightly as he sent, _:Try not to be too conspicuous, huh?:_

"Hello, professor."

"Harry. Do you mind if we talk for a moment?"

"Please, have a seat, sir," he replied politely. "What would you like to talk about?" Dumbledore looked much the same as usual, though he was meeting his gaze now. The man's expression was serious, though gentle.

"Remus has told me a little of what you two talked about, which reassures me. However, I am still very much concerned about something."

Harry choked back his initial reaction of anger. It was possible that it had been Phineas who had reported their conversation, not Remus, and that the headmaster was simply trying to shield his spy.

_:It's possible, Harry. You haven't been paying attention to the portrait. Though, that could not be the case for what was said at Privet Drive.:_

"What is it, sir?"

"I am sorry, Harry, but I refer to Occlumency. The lessons must continue."

_:Two points for you, Harry.:_

His mouth twitched, so he dropped his head. "I understand," he said softly.

"I promise you that I will find the time to teach you myself."

Harry shook his head, not looking up. "I don't wish to be a burden, sir. I know you have a great deal you need to be doing and things to take care of to reserve so much of your time for one student."

_:You do subdued very well, Harry. I told you you should be more confident of your abilities.:_

"You aren't a burden, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "I think I understand what it is that you're trying to say, though. I will have someone pick up your supplies today."

"Sir?" Maybe now was the best time to approach a certain topic. A rush of approval flooded him as Tom realized what he was up to.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Sir, I—" He stopped and raised his eyes slightly, though not his face, enough to be able to see the headmaster's expression. "I'm a little worried that—do you know anything about writing a will, sir?"

The change was subtle, but immediate. "Yes, I do."

"I don't want . . . the Dursleys to get everything, so, you know, just in case. . . ." He deliberately let his voice trail off in a whisper.

"If that is what you wish, Harry, I can obtain an accounting for you, and find someone trustworthy to assist you in writing a will. But, do you not feel you're being a bit premature?"

"I think I should be prepared, sir," he said with a bit more strength, "and not close my eyes to what could happen."

There was a pause, and then, "I will make the arrangements, Harry. Was there anything else on your mind that you feel comfortable in talking to me about?"

_:Judging by his face, I think we really need to find out if the sorting hat knows anything. He gave in far too easily on the will request.:_

_:Yes,:_ he sent, then flicked his gaze to the side for a moment, purposely focusing on how he had felt the night Sirius had died. When he looked back he said, "I—sir—I feel—"

"Harry, what is it?" Dumbledore's expression was very gentle, and his eyes were sparkling just a little.

_:I _really_ don't trust him.:_

"It sounds so silly. I don't know. . . ." Dumbledore chose to remain silent, so Harry continued after a pregnant pause. "I just can't get it out of my head, sir, what the sorting hat said to me."

Dumbledore seemed surprised, at least as much Harry could discern with his admittedly poor skill at reading others. "I'm not sure I understand," was his response.

"I don't either. How could it think that of me? I—" Harry clenched his fists, letting his nails dig into the palms of his hands, more of a way to keep him focused than as any expression of true feeling. "I'm not—Sirius would have hated me."

"I think you underestimate him, Harry."

"I'll never know, sir," he said in his best attempt at a broken whisper. A part of him was giggling, though whether it was from nervousness or fear or something else Harry wasn't sure.

"There are worse things than death, Harry."

Harry wondered how that had any relevance to the subject at hand. Shaking himself mentally, he emitted a bitter laugh and dropped his eyes. "That doesn't stop the questions."

"Would it help if you could talk to it again?" offered the headmaster.

_:Yes!:_

Harry's gaze rose swiftly, his eyes wide. "I—maybe? Do you . . . think it's a bad idea?"

Dumbledore aimed a gentle smile at him and shook his head. "If it would set your mind at ease, Harry, I see no harm."

_:No harm!?:_

_:Settle down, or he's going to get suspicious. I can't keep my eyes averted all the time and if you keep this up, you might show through.:_

Harry summoned up a weak smile for the headmaster's benefit and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Well then, I will go and begin making arrangements. I will see you later, Harry." Dumbledore rose with another of his gentle smiles and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

_:I'm sorry, Harry.:_

Harry set his almost forgotten book face down on the nightstand, then rolled over and hugged his pillow, facing away from the portrait. After closing his eyes he sent, _:I think that went okay.:_

_:Okay? Harry, you were magnificent! You manipulated him like a professional.:_

_:I don't know if I should be proud of that or not. What if he's innocent?:_

_:It's possible.:_ Harry could feel Tom's reluctance behind that statement. _:But I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.:_

_:Yes.:_

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	14. Revelations

* * *

**— 14: Revelations —**

* * *

It had been several days and the routine remained the same. Remus had delivered his school supplies a few hours after Dumbledore had left, and since then Harry had been reading for his upcoming classes. He was rarely bothered except to be called down to meals, so he had plenty of time to put his resolution to do better to the test. It did not hurt in the least that he could almost always consult with Tom when he stumbled over something he did not understand, and be assured of a detailed and honest answer.

He was almost finished eating lunch when Dumbledore appeared the second time, and after alerting Tom, Harry gave the headmaster a polite nod and greeting.

"Harry, once you are finished I would like for you to accompany me to Gringotts," Dumbledore had said, and Harry had finished his meal quickly and allowed himself to be portkeyed to the bank along with several Order members who were told to lounge inconspicuously in the lobby. In the end, Harry found out that he was not all that well off. Not poor, to be sure, but not wealthy by any stretch if the figures that Tom related to him were accurate.

After requesting a certain amount to be withdrawn on the spot—for spending money and presents, he had said—Harry went ahead and apportioned his vault contents by percentage, including a small bequest to the Dursleys which would be converted to muggle currency. Dumbledore had given his approval, and they had portkeyed back to headquarters.

It was then that Dumbledore ushered Harry into the drawing room, and it was then that the headmaster produced the sorting hat, causing Harry's eyes to widen considerably.

"Do you still wish to talk to it, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, then said, "I—yes, sir, I do." Dumbledore extended the hat on those words and Harry took it from his hands, then sat down on one of the sofas. He took another deep breath—it was not entirely for show—and placed the hat on his head.

_:My, my, my.:_ The hat's mental voice was very different from Tom's, and echoed slightly. _:What have we here? Oh!:_

_:What?:_ he asked, even knowing it was rude.

_:Patience, child. I see that a great deal has happened to you since you first put me on, but nothing nearly so interesting as the past few months. I see, yes, how very intriguing.:_

Harry frowned and was immediately told, _:Nonsense, Potter. And while frowning is not unwarranted under the circumstances, you should strive for a blank, stony countenance. I know exactly why you wished to speak to me and we shall get to that shortly. So, Riddle has found his way to sanity, has he?:_

_:If you breathe one word of this to the headmaster I will fake a panic attack and land you in the fireplace, hat,:_ he threatened.

_:Such a feisty young man. Riddle, you may as well join the conversation. There is something I believe the two of you ought to know.:_

There was a moment of hesitation, then, _:I'm here.:_

_:Splendid! Now, be good children and listen carefully. I contain the will of the founders and am always and forever their servant. But, I am not merely a clever little toy that blindly chooses based on a static list of criteria. And, though my allegiance is to Hogwarts, and by proxy to the current headmaster, I am not so constrained as one might think.:_

_:What are you getting at?:_ interrupted Tom.

_:That is simple. Dumbledore knows of me what I wish him to know, just as it has been since the death of the founders with every head of the school. If I were only that which I appeared to be, Potter would not have been able to sway my judgment. Curb your impatience, children. All in good time.:_

Harry peripherally noticed that Dumbledore had moved to one of the windows and was gazing outside, apparently lost in thought.

_:Potter, I have known you were destined for something since before you were born. Yes, the prophecy that Dumbledore finally revealed to you was the start of it as far as I'm concerned, and I see that there has been another, which explains why you, Riddle, are currently enjoying my excellent company. What neither of you are aware of, or should I say sure of, is that there was another prophecy concerning you two. Your suspicions were correct.:_

Harry felt a spike of excitement, and could not tell if it was his own or Tom's. Perhaps it was both.

_:The first prophecy introduced the players in this nasty little game. The third prophecy makes it quite plain that you two are soul bonded. I imagine that came as quite a shock, but I see that you two are working things out quite nicely.:_

There was a pause, during which Harry got the distinct impression that the hat was indulging in a moment of amusement at their expense.

_:The second prophecy, though, was spoken by your mother, Potter.:_

_:What!?:_

_:The surface is just that, child. People may enjoy comparing you to your father, but in reality you are far more like Lily than anyone would like to admit. Your bond with Riddle is not entirely responsible for your ability to experience things from his point of view. But, I digress. She came to the school one day not long after your birth to speak to Dumbledore on some matter or other, and left some time after none the wiser for the prophecy she had spoken. He never told her.:_

There was another pause, then the hat said, _:Dumbledore gleaned from that that you, Potter, were the only one capable of killing Voldemort, and that you in turn would die as a result. Should you fail, Voldemort would be immortal—or so he thinks. You may have realized from the two you knew of that each of them lacks a certain part of the whole.:_

_:I see.:_ Even in his mind Harry thought his voice sounded tight.

_:Yes, I see that you do. He has been grooming you for that moment, with only a few lapses into maudlin concern.:_

_:The end justifies the means.:_

_:Naturally, Potter. But, of course, he is totally unaware of the third prophecy.:_

_:And if he was?:_ Tom asked.

_:My honest opinion would be that he would not take the risk. You would, if you were wise, keep in mind that Dumbledore defeated the dark lord Grindelwald, and that accomplishment influences his decisions. He will not turn from his plans, I believe, because they represent the safest path for him. He believes that because he was right then, he remains right in his assessment of this situation. I truly believe that knowledge of the third prophecy would not sway him from his present course, though you are free to disagree if you wish.:_

Harry frowned again and bit his lip. _:You know, I really appreciate that you're telling us all this, but . . . why?:_

_:Because I know what he does not, and with more surety than he could ever hope to have. The founders were very thorough, and you both share their blood. It is my duty and privilege to assist you in any way that I can.:_

_:All right, so our suspicions are confirmed. You know a hell of a lot more than you ever let on, and Dumbledore is a wolf in sheep's clothing,:_ Tom stated.

_:But, what now?:_ Harry asked, then realized part of the answer to that almost immediately. _:Ah, I guess I don't have much of a choice, then, do I?:_

_:I'm sorry, Harry, that another choice has been taken from you.:_

_:It's all right, Tom. I knew it was a possibility.:_

_:Now that that is settled, let us move along to the original excuse, shall we?:_

Harry had nearly forgotten, but was distracted almost immediately. _:Wait a minute! We _both_ share blood of the founders?:_

_:How else do you think you were able to wield Godric's sword?:_ The hat's tone was that of an adult explaining something to a very simple child. Harry's thoughts stuttered around in a limping circle until the hat said, _:I had my reasons for wishing to place you in Slytherin, Potter. Salazar would have been quite pleased with one such as you. Time and experience has simply made that ever more apparent. I also see that you have considered that I may attempt to re-sort you.:_

_:It would be like you,:_ Harry thought, _:but surely you've considered how Dumbledore would react should you try.:_

Laughter rang through his head. _:The headmaster warned me of your not-quite request, Potter, and told me that he would not interfere with my decision.:_

_:Holy—:_

_:That answers that question.:_

_:Indeed it does. However, I leave the choice to you, Potter.:_

Harry carefully considered his options. The safe path would be to remain where he was, though there was no true guarantee that there weren't advocates of Voldemort lurking in his present house. Staying would also mean that he would not have to face the question of his friends' loyalty. Choosing to enter the serpent's den meant that his safety was much more at risk.

Dumbledore didn't care, though. Why? Set a thief to catch a thief? The headmaster must be very, very sure of his interim safety were he to enter that place. Or was it that Dumbledore was hoping that the Slytherin students who followed Voldemort would be the unwitting means of deliverance? Aside from knowing the truth of his friends' feelings, that was something to consider for the larger view.

He was mildly surprised that neither the hat nor Tom had spoken, then realized that for once, the choice really was entirely his own. How much did the desire to know the truth about his friends balance his fear of stepping willingly into the unknown? Did his fear on both accounts make him a coward, or merely cautious? He was going to have to leave them eventually, regardless. Was it not better to find out now how they would react, or should he hold onto them in ignorance for as long as he could? Truth, or potential lies?

_:Slytherin,:_ he thought.

_:So be it,:_ responded the hat. _:But, before I announce that, you should prepare for your presumed reaction, child.:_

_:Wait.:_ It was Tom. _:Dumbledore will surely ask about this decision. What will you tell him?:_

_:That is easy, child. I shall regurgitate back unto him his own opinion. He talks to himself quite a bit, you know, and that reveals much. I simply need to use my own choice of wording.:_

Tom said something more, but Harry was no longer listening. He thought he had prepared himself for this eventuality, but he had only been fooling himself. Dumbledore had never cared, and all his genial smiles and understanding looks were nothing more than glittering lies. The person he had looked up to and trusted since the day Hagrid had come for him was nothing more than a sugar-coated death knell.

The hat being lifted from his head snapped him back to attention and he blinked rapidly, raising his eyes to see Dumbledore standing before him. "I will call in Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape to inform them of these events."

Harry simply stared.

"Harry, I think perhaps you might benefit from a nap," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry rose without a word and left, trudging to his room and inside. Once the door was closed he stretched out on the bed, knowing that for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was dangerously close to shedding tears.

_:Harry, I wish that I could be there with you right now.:_

He let out something between laughter and a dry sob, the sound muffled against his pillow. _:I guess preparation for the announcement wasn't something I needed to worry about.:_

_:Sleep, Harry, sleep.:_ He was more strung out than tired, but Tom's voice was terribly persuasive. The word echoed through his mind, over and over, until eventually, he did.

«« :: »»

He saw the chairs, the sofa, the rug, and even the fireplace. But those things did not concern him. What did was the mockup of Dumbledore that appeared in response to his thoughts. He slapped his wrist against his hip, taking hold of his wand a split second later, then slammed the figure with a well placed and powerful blasting curse followed by every spell of destruction he could think of, replacing the figure as necessary.

He was seriously considering what the effects of the Cruciatus Curse would be as he shouted, "I hate you," when he felt arms wrap around him from behind and pull him close.

"Hate isn't any kind of an answer, Harry. I would know."

He slumped slightly in the embrace and glared at the blackened figure. "I know that."

The grip on him tightened, and then Tom said, "I thought you wanted a dartboard? I was considering getting you one for Christmas, but. . . ."

Harry snorted and shot one last spell at the figure, obliterating it. "You just aren't going to let me stay mad, are you."

"Not if I can help it. Hate is a seductive thing, Harry, and I'd rather you didn't choose to become what I was. However, I would never stop you from honing your skills on a Dumbledore target if that's all it was."

"You're a strange man," he said, dropping his gaze so he could holster his wand.

"This, coming from you?" Tom chuckled and brushed his lips against Harry's neck, then turned him in his arms. "I know you feel angry, even betrayed, but I didn't coax you to sleep so you could wreak havoc on our place."

"What did you want me to do? Cry in your arms like a child?" Harry knew he was being a touch unreasonable, and that judgment was obviously shared by Tom given the flicker of impatience that crossed his face.

"I don't think that's something you would allow yourself except under extreme duress, but if you did, I would not turn you away." Tom began stepping backward, pulling Harry along with him, then loosened his grip entirely as he sat down on the sofa.

Harry gave a slight sigh, then took the implied offer, straddling Tom and wrapping his arms around the man's neck and resting his head on his shoulder.

"You can sleep if you want. I'll stay awake." And then he began to describe how he had felt when he first learned the truth about his father, speaking softly. Somewhere along the way, Harry drifted off, secure in Tom's embrace.

«« :: »»

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Harry rose up from the depths of sleep to disorientation and confusion, wondering who was disturbing his refuge from recent knowledge.

"Harry, come on. Wake up."

He rolled over and yawned, then opened his eyes sleepily, trying to focus without much success on who was looming over him, though the shock of red gave him a very good idea of the culprit.

"Here."

He felt something being pressed into his hand—his glasses. After rubbing his eyes with his free hand and slipping them on Harry looked at one of his best friends. "Ron."

"Finally. I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes."

He sat up and turned, scooting back so he could brace himself against the wall. "Are you all right?"

"Sorry?" Ron scratched his forehead in a gesture that might have been confusion.

"No one has told me anything. I mean, you seemed fine, but, that brain. . . ." He trailed off when he realized that Ron was avoiding his eyes. "They told you." When Ron simply nodded Harry sighed heavily. "They didn't tell me if any of you were coming, either. I guess you're here now because of what happened."

"It was kinda sudden."

"So are you? All right?"

"I'm fine. Are you?"

Harry blinked and eyed Ron suspiciously. "Not really. I think I'm still in shock."

_:Nice twist on the truth, Harry.:_

"Nothing was explained," Ron said slowly, then, "Why did you want to talk to it?"

_:He's taking this awfully calmly. I think this is more frightening than if he was just yelling at me.:_ To Ron he said, "When I was first sorted, the hat wanted me in Slytherin. I've never been able to let that go, and it's always scared me."

_:Are you sure it's actually him?:_

"Then why now?"

"Sirius," Harry said. "I'm not sorry I talked to it. I had to know why."

"How am I supposed to feel?" asked Ron, causing Harry to suffer some confusion. Where was the yelling? The accusations? The tantrums over the supposed betrayal of his best friend?

"I don't know," he said honestly. "That's up to you."

Ron shook his head and said, "It's time for dinner," then turned and left.

_:I don't know what to think.:_

_:What did you mean by the brain?:_ Tom asked.

_:In the Department of Mysteries.:_ Harry briefly explained what had happened to Ron that night.

_:It may have affected your friend in ways that not even he is fully aware of, Harry. Or, he could be an imposter sent in to see if you'll reveal something.:_

_:I guess I better get down there. I don't want anyone to come looking for me.:_ Harry slid off the bed and headed downstairs, pausing when he entered the kitchen.

Mrs Weasley turned at his arrival and smiled broadly, hurrying over to smother him in a hug. "Harry, dear! How lovely to see you again. Now you just sit right down. I know you must be starving." She let go and bustled off toward the table to fuss over the platters of food.

_:Are you sure I'm not dreaming?:_

_:She's nervous, Harry. She may be worried about what happened, or worried that you'll retreat. It's hard to say.:_

Harry took a seat and loaded his plate, though he wasn't sure he could do justice to what he had taken. Ron, who had been missing, arrived a minute later and slid into a seat next to him to load up his own plate.

"Harry, you already have your supplies?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"Er, yes. Remus picked them up for me a couple of days ago. I'd already finished my holiday work so I've been reading ahead."

Ron gave him a sidelong look that Harry couldn't interpret. It became more or less clear, though, when Ron muttered, "You sound like Hermione."

Harry cracked a slight smile and continued to eat. _:At least that sounded normal.:_

_:Well, aside from asking him some odd questions. . . .:_

Remus arrived and took a seat, followed a few minutes later by Tonks. Conversation was rather stilted, and Harry made the assumption that it had everything to do with his change of house. He was almost done eating when Snape swept in wearing a foreboding expression.

"Potter, report to the drawing room when you're finished. And don't keep me waiting," he ordered, then swept back out.

Harry bit his lip. He had to wonder if Dumbledore was handling things this way in order to make him feel lost and increase his dependency on the man. Throwing both Ron and Snape at him the same day was a bit much. He set down his silverware and rose, taking a moment to glance at Remus. After getting a faint smile, he turned and headed for the drawing room.

"Sit," he was told curtly, so he did. "You, Potter, are a nightmare, and I eagerly await the moment when I wake up. Until that time, I'm going to establish some ground rules. You will do nothing to bring shame to the house of Slytherin or I will make sure you regret it. I find myself in a unique position as your head of house, and be sure that I will capitalize on that."

Harry remained silent, though he found it interesting that Snape was leaning against the wall right next to a portrait. He wondered how much of Snape's harshness was for someone else's benefit.

_:That is likely, to some extent.:_

"Being an upperclassman you will be in a room of your own. Though, being the headmaster's pet, I am quite sure that would have been arranged regardless. Do not expect that you will be welcomed onto the quidditch team with open arms. With you no longer on the Gryffindor team, they may be content to leave things as they are. You will be taking lessons with me twice a week in the evenings, and I expect that you will cease with your childish disregard for authority and necessity and do something other than waste my time.

"And, as I would not be surprised if those people you call friends deserted you over this, I am confident that you will attend more closely to your studies rather than losing your new house points at every opportunity with your previous reckless behavior and disrespect. I will not coddle you. If you have any troubles with your new housemates, you will deal with it on your own. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. I expect you to do your utmost to make me forget you even exist, Potter. The less I see of you the better, and the fewer headaches I shall have to endure."

Harry thought that was fairly harsh, though in character for the man. _:I don't suppose you'll be asking him what Dumbledore said?:_

_:I will, rest assured. I am also curious as to how much of this is playacting and how much is just Severus being himself.:_

Snape seemed to be waiting for some kind of a response, so Harry repeated, "Yes, sir."

Snape sneered and swept off, leaving Harry by himself. _:If it weren't for you, I think I might be feeling effectively cowed at the moment.:_

_:Now, Harry. You're forgetting resentful, humiliated, angry, despairing—:_

_:Shut up.:_

A sense of amusement, then, _:I'll signal him in a little while, Harry. I'm not sure if he realizes yet that we can speak mind to mind, so I don't want the timing to be too close.:_

_:He may come straight to you.:_

_:That would be even better. So what now?:_

_:I guess I go back to my room and see what happens.:_ Harry suited actions to words and went to his bedroom. Ron was already there, stretched out on the other bed, so Harry sat on his own and waited.

"What did he want?" Ron asked.

"To tell me what a miserable, inconvenient brat I am, and to advise me to keep out of his way so he doesn't have to deal with me. My Occlumency lessons are back on as well."

"I don't like this."

"This?" Harry glanced over, but Ron was staring at the wall.

"I don't know what to say to you."

Harry deliberated his next words carefully, wondering if he should just let Ron find his own way, then said slowly, "Ron, the hat always wanted me in Slytherin, and now it has its wish because I couldn't leave well enough alone. But, that means I've always had those qualities, whatever it is that Salazar valued. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, but I do think you might want to consider that."

Ron replied immediately, surprising him. "You're saying you haven't changed."

"I suppose so, though it may end up looking that way."

Silence stretched into minutes before Ron said, "Are we still friends?"

"That's up to you."

Ron grunted and stood, then changed into his pajamas and hopped under the covers of his bed.

"You're staying?"

"Mum already left. She'll be back in a few days," Ron said, then rolled over to face the wall.

Taking that as a firm end to the sketchy conversation, Harry also changed, then doused the lights and got into bed, lying awake for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	15. Reactions

* * *

**— 15: Reactions —**

* * *

As it turned out, Harry was correct. Severus came to see Tom not long after his conversation with Harry in the drawing room, and the first words from him were, "Your precious little brat was re-sorted into Slytherin." 

"Interesting. Dumbledore?"

"I could not tell his true reaction. He bore his customary cheer like a Death Eater's mask and cloak. He simply told me that due to unexpected circumstances that Potter was now in Slytherin, then told me I was to resume Occlumency lessons twice a week. Later on I gave the boy a piece of my mind, then came here."

Tom arched a brow. "For his benefit, or someone else's?"

Severus snorted and said, "Both. There was a portrait in the room we spoke in."

"In other words, Dumbledore acted like he was discussing the weather."

"Correct. He gave me no direction whatsoever once he had imparted those two things, not even a request to try to get along with the brat as he generally delights in doing."

"Well, so long as Dumbledore thinks you're teaching Harry Occlumency, that's one less worry. I will need to know which room Harry will be in, though, and I'm sure Dobby will be happy to add his own touch to things. Are you willing to tell me why you dislike Harry?"

"No," was the flat reply.

"All you willing to consider why you dislike Harry?"

"You already asked me to leave him alone, Tom. Are you trying to get me to see him as something other than a menace now?"

"That's an interesting reaction, Severus. It sounds to me as though you are well aware that your reasons are specious. Of course, without knowing what they are, I'm merely shooting in the dark."

Severus's expression blanked out, something that Tom was coming to realize often signaled shock and confusion. Perhaps it was true that the man was beginning to see him as something akin to a friend, so perhaps it made sense that he would not wish to confess to a complete breakdown of logic. He didn't know, but he suspected, based on what little Harry had said on the matter.

"I am surprised," Severus said after a minute, "that the brat hasn't spilled his tale of woe to you by now."

"Regarding you? He has not. He refuses to say anything other than that he greatly dislikes your treatment of him. He did mention an incident with a pensieve, but likewise refused to explain past the fact that he was too curious for his own good."

Severus sneered. "You expect me to believe that?"

Tom frowned. "I don't expect anything from you except cooperation, Severus. If you choose to believe that I would lie to you, so be it. While there are some things I am unable to say, I would not lie without a damn good reason, and you getting along with Harry isn't reason enough to mess with your mind." He rose and plucked a glass off a nearby shelf, then filled it with port from the matching decanter.

Turning around he said, "I'm beginning to think you really were being sarcastic the other day when the subject of friendship came up," then sat down and took a sip.

Severus decided to join him, getting a glass for himself and taking a seat. "I wasn't exactly."

Tom nodded and took another sip. "I'm only now learning how to be friends with someone, and I confess that I have Harry to thank for that. Once he accepts a person, he's quite willing to set aside the past and move ahead. It is . . . nice . . . to know that someone is there because of reasons other than power."

When Severus said nothing he continued, "I remember my years at the orphanage as a nightmare of pain and humiliation. Things never got better there, even as I got older. Things only changed overall when I learned of my heritage, and even then people only came to me because of the promises I could make and the power it would give them, not to mention the opportunity to exercise their sadistic urges. Of course, by the time I turned sixteen I began going mad in earnest, and I don't think madmen can have friends."

Another silence ensued, during which they took intermittent sips of their port, then Severus said, "The boy is far too much like his father."

"I agree that Harry can be much too reckless, and doesn't always think about what he's doing. Even Harry admits to that. However, I'm starting to think he's more like his mother."

There was a pause, then, "How so?"

"Having to bear some of her crosses, for one thing, being raised as a muggle, and by people who despise us. But to be more to the point, from what I've gathered he tends to be on the self-sacrificing and forgiving side, and doesn't seem to provoke so much as respond to provocation. I don't think he's all that fond of confrontation. James Potter was cocky and arrogant. That's not to say that Lily was a wallflower if what I've heard is accurate, and she was willing to sacrifice her own life in exchange for Harry's."

Severus opted to change the subject by asking, "Were you able to confirm his attempt at Cruciatus?"

"Yes. He tried on Bella, though the attempt only lasted for a few seconds."

"I need to go," Severus said abruptly. "I'll determine which room Potter will be in and get back to you."

Tom inclined his head and had another sip.

«« :: »»

Harry awoke, not much wiser on the subject of Dumbledore or Snape after his dream conversation with Tom, but happy that Dobby would be informed of the recent changes. Tom had begun to plan minor raids—a necessary evil—though discussion on that was brief, given over in favor of a dialogue on Harry's thoughts on what he had read of the first book of the set Tom had given him.

As Ron was still asleep, evidenced by his occasional snores, Harry dressed quietly and slipped down to the kitchen. Remus was already up and preparing breakfast, so he sat down quietly and waited, making abstract designs on the table top with his finger.

"Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?"

He looked up to see Remus gazing at him over his shoulder. "Er, yeah, thanks. Yesterday was kind of tiring."

"Mm." Remus turned away, then back a moment later with two plates of food which he brought to the table and served. "So, dare I hope you'll be planning a few pranks for your charming new housemates?"

Harry grinned without thought, then sobered. "I think I'm in enough danger as it is. I'd rather not have Slytherin house after my blood for due cause and I'd rather not alienate anyone who doesn't already hate me."

Remus chuckled and waved one of his hands in dismissal. "Where's Ron?"

"He was still sleeping, so I didn't bother him. He likes to sleep in, so. . . ."

"Are things all right between you two?"

"I honestly don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "It's kind of up to him. You seem to be taking this pretty calmly."

Remus smiled and reached across the table to touch his hand briefly. "I know you, and that's all I need to know. It doesn't change a damn thing as far as I'm concerned, so don't you worry about it. I do expect you to write to me more often, though, to tell me how things are going, and not those hellishly short letters that just say you're fine and that's it."

"All right, I'll try. I don't think I'm very good at writing letters."

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes, then pointed his fork at Harry. "If your previous ones are anything to go by, then true. I think you can do better, though."

Harry tilted his head, gave Remus a wide-eyed look, and said, "If you say so, Uncle Moony."

After a quickly hidden moment of surprise Remus said, "I do say so. You also seem to be taking this pretty calmly."

"Maybe, I don't know. I'm not sure what to think about a lot of things. It's done, though, so I just have to deal with it and make the best of it, right? Maybe I'm just in denial. At least I get my own room, so I can be grateful for that much."

"Mm. Too bad Gryffindor isn't like that. Actually, I think only Slytherin is, lucky sods."

"Yeah, well, no more listening to roommates who snore."

The door opened and Ron shuffled in, looking half asleep. Remus got up to prepare another plate as Ron took a chair, then deftly deposited it in front of the boy, who perked up immediately.

"Good morning, Ron."

Ron grunted around a mouthful of food and nodded, then had a sip of juice and turned to Harry. "Why didn't you wake me?" he complained with a slight scowl, then went right back to eating.

"Er. . . ."

"I notice you aren't taking Potions, Harry," Remus said. "Did you do that badly on the OWL?"

He grimaced immediately. "No. Exceeds Expectations, actually, but Sn—Professor Snape only takes Outstandings. And I'm fine with that, really. Five classes is more than enough, and I think I'll be stressed enough as it is. I'm not brilliant like Hermione and able to take so many at once and do well. She passed everything."

Ron grunted around another mouthful of food and gazed at Harry with raised brows.

"Oh, um, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures."

Ron nodded, then swallowed. "Same here. What about Hagrid?"

Harry looked at him in confusion, then groaned and dropped his head.

"Would you like me to talk to him?" offered Remus.

Harry started to shake his head, but didn't. Instead he looked up and said, "How did Professor McGonagall take it?"

"Badly," Remus said with a shrug. "She was still going on about your safety when I left."

"Oh." He didn't think that sounded too bad, but Hagrid?

"I think you ought to," Ron said. "Talk to Hagrid, I mean."

Harry gave him a wary look, then glanced at Remus.

"Oh?"

"Sure. So, Harry did something pretty stupid. I don't think Hagrid should stop talking to him because of it. It might take an adult to make him see that, though, if he's inclined to be that way about it."

Harry gave Ron an openly astonished look. "Who are you, and what have you done with Ron?"

"That hurts, Harry. I can grow up too, you know. Besides, I got up almost as soon as you left the bedroom and was eavesdropping on you two. I think I'd already made up my mind, but that didn't hurt any."

Remus laughed and shook his head as Ron continued, "I did something really stupid fourth year, and I don't plan on repeating it. I'm not going to let my best friend go through this alone, so shut up and deal with it."

Harry bit his lip and gazed up at the ceiling, blinking rather more than ought to have been necessary. He was even closer to tears than he had been after his talk with the sorting hat.

_:I think I like that young man,:_ put in Tom unexpectedly._ :And Remus.:_

_:Yeah.:_

_:Who needs muggle television when I can look through your eyes?:_

Harry stifled a laugh and dropped his gaze to his plate. As he filled his fork he sent, _:If I'm that amusing it's probably just as well I can't look through yours normally, lest I be bored to tears.:_

_:Low blow, Harry. I may have to deduct points for that, but I'm sure you can make it up to me.:_

"Harry?"

He lifted his head. "Huh?"

"Does Hermione know?"

"I don't know. Moony?"

"I don't think so. I believe Albus wanted to let you and Ron talk first. Either of you up for seconds?"

"Please!" Ron said, handing his plate over.

"I don't know how you can eat that much and not get fat," Remus said. "Harry?"

"Oh, er, maybe just a little."

«« :: »»

"Where are we going?" whined Ron.

Harry stopped and looked at him, then ducked through a doorway. Careful perusal of the room revealed no portraits, but he went over it a second time to be sure, then dragged Ron inside and shut the door. "We're going here."

"Harry, are you feeling all right?"

"Don't you think it's peculiar that our bedroom is the only one with a portrait in it?"

"Er, well. . . . What are you trying to say? That Dumbledore set a spy on you?"

Harry shrugged. "Phineas is creepy and he doesn't like me, and I know he keeps an eye on me for Dumbledore. I don't like it and I'm not about to have any meaningful conversations in there where he can overhear."

He slumped into a moth-eaten chair and sighed. "Did you . . . really mean it?"

"Of course I did!" Ron gave him an offended look and dropped onto a dusty couch.

Harry ruffled his hair. "I wonder what happened to Buckbeak."

Ron shook his head. "Harry, if the hat wanted you in Slytherin to begin with, how come you ended up in Gryffindor?"

"Honestly? Because of you and Malfoy and Hagrid. Hagrid told me a bit about Voldemort and was really uncomplimentary about Slytherin. Malfoy was a right little snot at Madam Malkin's, not that I knew who he was at the time, and then again on the train. You were really nice, though. I mean, I guess finding out who I am was a bit of a shock, but you seemed to get past that and forget about it. You seemed happy enough to just talk to me, you know?"

He paused. "When Malfoy was such a snob on the train, I got kind of mad. Of course, then I saw him sorted into Slytherin. When my turn came up, the first thing it did was start babbling about how I'd do well in Slytherin, and I got really nervous. I kept telling it 'not Slytherin' over and over and it finally chose Gryffindor. I didn't care where I ended up, so long as it wasn't Slytherin."

Ron appeared to consider that, then said, "I guess I can see why you never mentioned it, though I'm still not sure I understand what Sirius had to do with you talking to the hat again."

"He died. I started wondering if it was because of something like that, that I didn't understand. Maybe it's a bit crazy, but I just had to know why the hat was so insistent, before—"

"Harry?"

He looked Ron directly in the eye and said, "I know I may not live through all this, and I wanted to understand while I still had a chance to."

"You're right, it is crazy."

Harry laughed softly. "Ron, I was seconds from death when Dumbledore showed up and distracted Voldemort. I just had to go running after Bellatrix like the idiot I am, away from everyone else."

Ron gave him a dark look. "You aren't going to die, Harry."

"I'm just trying to tell you what was going through my head. Anyway, it's done and I can't change it. I wonder if I'll have to start wearing my cloak whenever I need to get through the common room. Snape told me I'd have to deal with them on my own. He certainly isn't going to interfere."

"Lousy git. And what about once V-Voldemort finds out?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll have them all trying to turn me instead of trying to knock me senseless and drag me off to my death."

Ron shot him another dark look.

"I'm just saying. I think I'd rather deal with that than attempts on my life."

Ron suddenly grinned. "Can you imagine the look on Malfoy's face when you turn up at his table?" His face fell before Harry had a chance to respond. "Quidditch."

"Er, yeah." Harry shrugged. "I have a lifetime ban, though, and even if it got lifted, I don't expect I'd be playing anyway. I don't think they'd want me, and I don't think I'd want to play against Gryffindor. I mean, can you imagine Malfoy stepping back and giving me his place?"

Ron snickered. "No, because you're better than he is, and he knows it. I don't think his pride would let him. Merlin, Harry, are they even going to let you ride the train this year?"

"Don't know. I rode back on it, so . . . I guess so?" Harry made a helpless sort of gesture, then said, "Nobody tells me anything. They didn't even warn me they were coming to get me. Just showed up the other afternoon and told me to pack up. Besides, I should think you're also in danger. Everyone who went."

Ron shifted, sending up a cloud of dust, and sneezed. "Well. . . ."

"Don't you get angry? Everybody acts like it's all about me, and it's not! I never would have got through any of this without you guys."

Ron shifted again, giving Harry a sideways look. "Well, I don't think my answer is the same as it would have been. I mean, maybe you're right, but that doesn't mean I'd stop helping you. Yes, I get angry when people push us to the side, but maybe that means we aren't in quite as much danger as we could be, either."

Harry nodded and dropped his chin to his shoulder. "How do you think Hermione will react?"

Ron scratched his head, then said, "Well, first she'll want to visit the library and do some research, then she'll want to interrogate you within an inch of your life, and then she'll write up a massive essay on it for extra credit, then get confused because she won't be sure which class it could count for."

Harry laughed. "Should I take that to mean you think she'll be okay?"

"You should take that to mean it's time for a game of chess."

«« :: »»

_:You know, we could give him a hell of a shock.:_

_:Hm?:_ Harry contemplated the board again, going over his options.

_:I happen to be excellent at chess.:_

_:Oh, sure. Then Ron would be wondering if _I_ was an imposter.:_

_:You have no sense of adventure, Harry. I think it would be hilarious if Ron eventually found out he'd been playing chess against Voldemort.:_

Harry gave a faint snort and moved a pawn, feeling dismay when Ron grinned suddenly. _:Strategy was never my forte. Besides, if I started winning all the time, Ron would begin to wonder if I've been faking it all along to salve his pride. It's one of the few things he has over me.:_

Within minutes he had been soundly trounced. Ron was looking quite pleased with himself and Tom was snickering in the back of his head.

«« :: »»

Saturday finally arrived, though not without Harry having been repeatedly thrashed. However, as it made Ron happy, Harry was happy enough to submit with good grace to such failures on his own part. He had also learned through Tom that Severus had revealed his new room's location, and that Dobby had moved the master portrait from the Gryffindor dorm to there, and had taken it upon himself to use elf magic to ward off his presumably curious and malicious new housemates.

Tom had also slipped into the castle, though he had done nothing as of yet. He had merely lounged around for a while, then left, mainly to see if Severus would alert him that his presence had been detected. Given that he had not, Tom had mentioned his plans to go back before the term started and add a few things himself.

Harry found it all rather confusing. He was amused and dismayed, to be precise. Much like the protections at Privet Drive, the ones at Hogwarts seemed to be seriously lacking in rational design. He even wondered, in a moment of idle curiosity, if the presence of his own blood within Tom would mean that his bonded could walk into Privet Drive at any time he pleased and not set off the wards.

Tom had thought it was an interesting question, but wasn't inclined to find out at present. There was one very welcome bit of news, though. Severus had made it plain that he suspected the Slytherin students might take great offense to Harry's inclusion, and had every intention of resetting the common room's door to allow for a second password—Parseltongue—which Tom would need to set. If his housemates tried to shut him out by not revealing password changes, Harry would still be able to enter the house's territory.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Salazar himself had arranged for such a thing to indulge fellow parselmouths. And, while it was true that Dobby could jump Harry in and out as necessary, it was deemed less suspicious for a more obvious solution to be found to the potential problem. Tom had also made it clear that Voldemort would, as soon as he could have logically found out about Harry's re-sorting, impart instructions to the students of Slytherin house regarding expected behavior and so forth.

Harry might still have to fight, but the odds would likely be drastically lessened. So it was that Harry woke up that morning in a fairly good mood. After ruthlessly waking Ron, he and his friend dressed and headed for the kitchen to enjoy more of Remus's fine cooking. However, what awaited them was Mrs Weasley.

And Ginny. And Hermione.

They stopped dead on the threshold, moving forward only once the door had swung back to hit them, then stopped again in uncertainty. Harry was aware that for all Ron's joking about Hermione, he was also worried, especially if she was inclined to fault Ron for making what she thought was a bad decision.

"It's about time you two woke!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, then said, "Sit down. Breakfast is just about ready."

"It's good to see you again," Harry said, then glanced over at Ron who mumbled what sounded like, "Hi, mum."

Mrs Weasley bustled over and pushed them both at the table, then headed back to start loading platters.

Harry sat down, Ron beside him, and said, "Hi, guys."

"Hello, Harry," they chorused in a low tone, both ignoring Ron in favor of giving him a steady look.

"I'm here too, you know," Ron complained, sending them a scowl.

"Yes, Ron, we're aware of that," said Hermione, her gaze flicking over briefly before coming back to settle on Harry.

Feeling a bit nervous, Harry leaned to the side and muttered, "I feel like a specimen in a zoo." Ron laughed easily and clapped him on the shoulder, then reached out to fill his plate as his mother distributed the platters of food.

Harry followed suit, wondering why the girls were being so quiet, then looked up when Mrs Weasley said, "Harry, dear, has everything been all right the past few days?"

Feeling a bit mystified by the question he nodded, then noticed a quick dart of her eyes toward Ron. "Yes, thank you for asking. It's been kind of quiet, but Ron and I didn't mind."

"Hedwig found her way to you?"

"Yes."

"Professor Dumbledore has assured me that your broom will be returned once you get to school. He knows how much it means to you."

For what good it would do. "That's very good to hear," he said politely and smiled.

"I'm not so sure about the ban, though," she continued.

Harry didn't know what to make of the line of conversation and retreated into a safe response. "That's all right. I mean, I've been in so many accidents playing that maybe it's just as well."

"Yes, that's true, dear. Perhaps you're right."

Breakfast continued mostly in silence, then Mrs Weasley shooed them all out so she could clean up. Harry and Ron made for the stairs, the girls behind them, and rather than heading for his bedroom, Harry headed to the room he had used to talk to Ron. After another careful perusal he flopped into a chair.

The moment everyone was seated Hermione said, "All right. Explain."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	16. Responses

* * *

**— 16: Responses —**

* * *

Harry heaved a sigh and played with his hair, then told the girls what he had told Ron.

Hermione stood when he was done and paced around restlessly, then whirled and said, "Harry, you idiot! Can't you for once think ahead before you do something so stupid?"

"Thank you for reminding me," he muttered.

"Don't you have any concept of how much danger you're in?"

"Ah, well, Hermione, considering that it'll be me down in the Slytherin dungeons, yes. I'm very much aware of the danger I've put myself into. Then again, it's just me this time, not me and all of you."

"I would have thought you'd have learned by now, especially since you got—" She broke off, her eyes going wide, then said, "Since you get into so much trouble by not thinking first."

Harry narrowed his eyes in anger. "Since I got Sirius killed. Isn't that what you mean?"

She declined to respond, instead turning on Ron. "And you, acting like this is all some sort of colossal joke."

"Shut up," Ron said roughly. "I don't care what you think you know. Harry is my best friend and I'm not taking any of this lightly. I'm also not going to abandon him, or use this as an excuse to scream at him."

Hermione jerked back in surprise, one hand rising to her mouth.

For the hell of it Harry said, "That's interesting. Dumbledore didn't seem to think there was any harm in me talking to the hat. Big surprise for everyone, huh?"

Hermione turned back, shock evident on her features. "He—"

"Yes, he did. So, as much as you want to yell at me for being stupid, you ought to take that into consideration. It was his decision to let me, after all."

"Don't try to push the blame on someone else, Harry."

He laughed, though his chest was tight. "I accept full responsibility for my actions. I don't need you to show me the light. Your light, that is. Apparently, you blame me for everything that's gone wrong, in the past, Sirius's death, and my wish to understand. It doesn't matter who else was involved, because it's all about me in your eyes. I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted. And apparently it's my fault that you've been friends with me. I guess I'm better than an Imperius Curse, huh, Ron?"

Ron snickered and looked off to the side.

"I could make the assumption that you're so much in shock that you have no idea what you're saying." After a brief pause he asked, "Do you? Are you listening to yourself? Is this what you believe?"

"I—" She turned yet again. "Ginny?"

Ginny lifted her chin and said, "Harry, I refuse to believe that the person who fought for my life in the Chamber, and nearly died because of it, is suddenly bad just because you got re-sorted into Slytherin. I don't care and I'm still your friend."

Hermione sat down abruptly as Harry murmured, "Thank you," and folded her hands on her lap.

After several minutes of silence Hermione said softly, "I don't think well under pressure."

"You don't," Harry agreed.

She glanced up, her expression unreadable. "I didn't mean to—"

"You did," he said bluntly, cutting her off.

She scowled and rubbed her arms as though cold. "You aren't making this easy."

"No, I'm not."

"I said some very hurtful things."

"Yes."

"I was being unreasonable."

"All right."

"I . . . was wrong."

Ron threw himself onto the floor as though he had managed to fall off his perch, then gasped, "The world is ending!"

Harry immediately started laughing, slumping down so he could reach out with a leg and kick Ron, who flopped over onto his back and wailed theatrically. The door swung open at that point to reveal a very puzzled Mrs Weasley.

"What on earth is going on in here?"

The four exchanged glances, then Harry said brightly, "Acting out a play."

Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. "It's much too dirty in here, children. I insist you find a nicer place. You're all of you dusty, so I expect you to go wash up and change first. Go on!"

Harry bounced to his feet and made a run for it, the others not far behind. A bit later on, Harry sidled up to Ron and said, "I win."

"Eh?"

"She didn't head straight for a library. I win."

Ron groaned and hid his face in his hands.

«« :: »»

_:I'm not sure I trust her.:_

Harry had told Ron he was feeling a bit tired and wanted to take a nap. So, he was curled up on his bed, eyes closed, simply so he could speak with Tom.

_:I'm sorry to say I agree with you. I'm starting to think that so long as it's primarily an intellectual exercise, she's fine. The Ministry was anything but. Sirius died, I nearly died, they all got hurt to varying degrees. . . . I have to wonder if it's all become a little too real for her, and me being re-sorted was the last straw. She was quite cruel.:_

_:She's an intellectual, Harry, right? They often don't understand others or relate to them well. You've told me enough about your adventures that I'm inclined to think she would have stayed primarily alone had it not been for you and Ron. The fact that you were willing to save someone you didn't care for spoke volumes. She probably would have been happier in Ravenclaw. She is brave, I admit, but I think a lot of that is born of her relationship to you two. Otherwise, she'd be like a tripod missing two legs.:_

Harry stifled a snicker at the image the comment called up. _:I'm afraid to tell her much of anything. Even that little bit made it clear she wasn't willing to assign any blame to Dumbledore, regardless of the truth.:_

_:You were thinking of revealing the first prophecy?:_

_:It's almost to be expected. After all, Harry Potter is reckless and doesn't think ahead. And, Hermione is so gung ho on knowing every little detail. But, that isn't the reason.:_

_:Let me see. Ron's reaction has you wondering if he could actually be trusted with the truth, possibly even the whole truth, am I right?:_

_:Yeah.:_

_:And if one of them ran to Dumbledore and squealed?:_

_:I guess I'd, er, get all pathetic and tell him how I couldn't bear it alone, or keep my friends in the dark.:_

_:Of course, except it puts your friends in much more danger. One inadvertent slip of the tongue and the next thing you know, Voldemort has kidnapped them, subjected them to torture with a side of veritaserum, and killed them.:_

_:Would Dumbledore actually care? If Voldemort knew the prophecy he'd come after me with even more force, right? And, since I think so darn well under pressure, I might just be able to pull off his defeat, then sink to the ground with a faint smile of relief just before I kicked off. Actually, I think it's a bit funny.:_

_:What's that?:_

_:He told me what saved me that night was love. My mother's love. And, that my feelings for Sirius drove you away because it was something you couldn't understand, or bear to experience. In a way, his ideas about love are correct, but they aren't. It just doesn't mean what he thinks.:_

_:Ah. He's looking at a twisted reflection of what is, or could be.:_

_:Something like that. I mean, I suppose it is true that what I was feeling drove you out that night. But one incident isn't the whole story, or at least not the one he paints.:_

_:I wasn't prepared for what you did to me, Harry. Possession can be a delicate thing. So I agree. I don't think it meant what he believed it did. Sure, you could kick me out of your mind if you really wanted to, but that's about will and control, not love.:_

_:I'll be nice and polite if I want you to stop peeking. Though, given how much time we spend talking to each other, I have to wonder if you're incredibly lazy or just very good at doing several things at once.:_

There was a slight pause, then, _:Multitasking, Harry. If you must know, I'm being a bit lazy right now and working on a jigsaw puzzle while we talk. However, that brings up an oblique point.:_

_:Oh?:_

_:Would you like me to teach you Occlumency for real?:_

Harry considered the offer. Given the access he had already granted into his own mind, was there any reason to say no? He still didn't like Snape, and didn't particularly want the man to see much of what was floating around in his memories, and certainly not memories of his time spent with Tom in the physical realm. Granted, that might give him more incentive to work harder, but it seemed a bit pointless. He did trust Tom. Hadn't he already proven that to himself, the one that really needed to be convinced?

_:All right. How?:_

_:Well, after you've returned to school, obviously. Do you think you could stand working in the Chamber?:_

_:I wonder if the basilisk corpse is still down there or if it's decayed.:_

_:Hm. I'll have to go check. If there's anything left, Severus might be interested.:_

_:I don't mind, though I guess I'd have to get Dobby to jump me. Otherwise Myrtle would get awfully curious with me going in and out. And Legilimency? At least to the extent of knowing if someone is lying.:_

_:I don't see why not, though I doubt it would work on someone like Dumbledore.:_

_:That's fine. I didn't mean him anyway.:_

_:Ah, we're back to your friends.:_

_:Yes. An unfair advantage, I admit, but. . . .:_

Amusement, then,_ :You don't have to justify yourself to me, Harry, and I happen to agree. It would be very helpful. Uncertainty can be debilitating at times.:_

_:You know, if I did tell them, and Hermione went straight to Dumbledore, if he was that upset over it, he could just obliviate her.:_

_:That is true. However, you might find yourself in a great deal of trouble. There are other ways around things, but they might be potentially far more complicated. I realize that knowing is something you would like, so if you decide to do it, we'll figure it out somehow.:_

_:All right. I won't worry about it for now. Not here at headquarters, anyway. I'm not even sure I should use that room again now that Mrs Weasley found us in there.:_

_:I would advise against it just to be safe.:_

_:Tom, does the specimen have to be deceased in order to use them for an identity change?:_

_:Technically, no.:_

_:And you said blood is best, right?:_

_:Yes. What are you up to?:_

_:I was just thinking about our deaths. Rather, Voldemort and Harry, not Ash and Coran, or whatever.:_

_:All right. I believe I understand. It would make things much simpler if there were bodies.:_

_:Well, yeah. And since you still have Death Eaters to get rid of. . . .:_

There was a long pause before Tom said anything. _:We could have ruled the world, Harry, you and I.:_

_:I don't want to rule the world, Tom. I want to rule over a nice little house somewhere and maybe the odd pet or two. A cat might be nice, though I'm not sure how well they get on with snakes.:_

Tom's amusement filled him again. _:I know. At any rate, you have a very interesting idea.:_

_:Would something like that hold up against scans after the fact? I mean, I suppose the bodies could be, er, burnt beyond recognition or something equally gruesome, but. . . .:_

_:Yes, they would, which makes it a very enticing suggestion. Does this in any way tie in with your earlier thoughts on the Dark Mark?:_

_:Well, since you mention it, yes.:_

«« :: »»

Harry went down to lunch in a fairly good mood, despite Hermione's less than stellar reaction to his re-sorting. He wondered if she would have apologized had Mrs Weasley not interrupted, then sat down and flashed Ron a smile. Ron's forfeit had been to make a real attempt at finishing his holiday work, something that afforded Harry a great deal of amusement.

Ron gave him a scowl in return, then ignored him in favor of the food being placed on the table. Ginny was smiling cheerfully, though Hermione looked like she was in a world of her own. It made him feel quite sad. The idea that one of his best friends might never be able to look past a child's view of things was disheartening, at best.

And he did consider it childish, her persistence of belief that someone like Dumbledore could do no wrong. She had had no problem with being somewhat scornful about Sirius. Then again, perhaps the difference was that Dumbledore rarely, if ever, actually told her anything. The only thing that came to mind offhand was when he had advocated the use of her time turner, and even then it had been Harry who understood what the man was driving at, not her.

He was beginning to realize that Hermione was a very strange girl, at once very much inclined to believe in authority simply because it existed, but also willing to defy law when it suited her purposes. That she had more or less openly stated her lack of faith in him. . . .

After lunch, which was a quiet affair, Harry dragged Ron off to gather up books and work, then headed to the drawing room in order to buckle down. Ron groused and grumbled quite a bit, but gave in, so Harry was able to continue reading ahead with very little in the way of distractions, even when the girls both showed up to do much the same.

They, of course, were allowed to go to Diagon Alley the next day. Ron had made noises about staying behind to keep Harry company, but went after he assured him he would be all right by himself for a while, though he did slip Ron money for a round of sweets. And so the time went, with none of them willing, least of all Harry, to make any waves.

Harry grew increasingly nervous as the days went by, but knew that he had brought this on himself, and therefore did not complain or voice his fears, even to Tom, though he knew his bonded was quite well aware. He spent most of their dream time nestled in Tom's arms, the only way he was willing to express those feelings, though he was sure that had he spoken about it, Tom would have done his best to reassure him.

He was, after all, allowed to ride the Hogwarts Express.

That too was uncomfortable, especially as Neville and Luna decided to join them. After having quietly thanked both of them for their help at the Ministry, Harry then told them that he had been re-sorted without going into any great detail on the matter. Luna's reaction had been somewhat predictable. After turning her slightly unfocused gaze on him and smiling vaguely, she had nodded and said, "That's interesting, Harry," then gone back to reading a copy of the Quibbler. Neville, on the other hand, had appeared quite startled and unwilling to comment.

Harry never had a chance to see Hagrid as they disembarked, and as they rode up to the castle in one of the carriages, Harry leaned over and whispered to Ron, "Which end do you think I ought to sit at?"

Ron turned to him with a furrowed brow. "That's a tough question. I would say closest to the head table, but that's usually where the first years sit, and it might be like saying you need the protection of the professors. If you sit at the other end, you might end up with seventh years, and they might not be very happy about it. The middle, well. . . . I don't know, Harry."

Harry let out his breath, then nodded. "I may as well appear a coward, then, and sit up top. That way, if Snape has it in mind to be nasty, I'll be right there where he can get his hands on me."

"Back to the wall, then, mate," Ron advised.

Several minutes later they were striding through the double doors of the Great Hall, and, after exchanging a glance, split and headed to either side. Harry felt as though it was the longest and most difficult walk he had ever made in his life. It wasn't until he was half way up the table that something occurred to him.

_:Tom, how come I haven't seen Malfoy?:_

_:Well, you see, Harry, he had a rather nasty broom accident. Had to go to St. Mungo's. However, he'll be sure to turn up by tomorrow, possibly earlier.:_

_:I see.:_ Harry reached the end of the table and sat down, ostensibly ignoring the sneer Snape was aiming at him. _:How convenient.:_ Harry was also ignoring the swelling of voices that accompanied looks in his direction, not to mention the pointing and blatant staring.

_:Yes, it is. Imagine that.:_

A shadow made Harry look up and to the side.

"Why are you here, Potter?"

Harry gave Parkinson a once-over, then arched his brow and said, "Shouldn't that be obvious?"

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It seems I vastly overestimated your intelligence," he murmured, then looked away.

He could hear her sharp inhalation, then a male voice say, "Piss off, Pansy." A moment later someone sat down beside him and said, "So, I never thought I'd see the day Dumbledore's favorite would be slumming it in Slytherin."

Harry turned his head again and raised his brows. "Am I? Should I take that to mean the stories are true, Zabini?"

"Aren't you cool. I shall have to wear an extra jumper around you, Potter, lest I get frostbite."

Harry felt himself about to smile and looked away, deciding to scan the head table to see who was sitting in as the current Defense teacher. His eyes paused briefly on a blond fellow he didn't recognize, then came back to rest on the table in front of him.

"I won't bite, you know."

Harry looked over again. "Of course you won't. You might become infected with my wholesome goodness."

Zabini smirked. "I don't think so, Potter. You are sitting at the Slytherin table after all."

Harry smiled faintly and said, "So I am. Don't suppose you know anything about the new Defense professor?"

Zabini shook his head. "No, and I don't care. Odds are that he'll be about as effective as a tea strainer in a rainstorm."

Harry decided to get straight to the point, more or less. "So, what brings you to my little corner of the table?"

"Curiosity, of course. For instance, how much trouble do you plan on causing us?"

"I?" Harry gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "I never _plan_ on doing that. It just happens. All I _plan_ on doing is surviving my last two years at Hogwarts, preferably without further injury or near-death experiences."

"And how do you _plan_ to manage that?"

"I'm sure that will come to me in the fullness of time. Or, should I be concerned about your phrasing? One might take your words to be a subtle threat."

"Not from me, Potter. I have better things to do with my time."

Harry gave him a mildly incredulous look. "Better than what? Or are threats meaningless in the face of real action?"

Zabini narrowed his eyes and said, "Contrary to popular belief, not every denizen of the snake pit believes you're the foulest creature to walk the face of the planet, Potter."

"Contrary to popular belief, Zabini, I don't believe that every denizen of the snake pit is a loathsome, untrustworthy malefactor," Harry countered.

"Touché. I think you already know of most of those who would seek your death."

Harry smiled. "Isn't that unwise on their parts?"

Zabini gave him a considering look. "Why is that, Potter?"

Harry shrugged and made a slight gesture with one hand. "Isn't that Voldemort's prerogative? I can't imagine he's the type of leader who would be thrilled at having to kill talented people for usurping his very personal goals. There's a fine line between initiative and suicide. I've met the man—have they?"

"Interesting. Unfortunately, the new first years are coming in, and Professor Snape will not be pleased if we continue talking through the sorting."

Harry inclined his head and looked toward the entrance. McGonagall was heading up a line of children, leading them toward the sorting hat at the front. Harry rested his gaze on the hat for several moments, then averted his eyes. A sidelong glance at Dumbledore showed that the man wore his customary benevolent expression.

The sorting was like any other, except that Harry was experiencing it from the other side of the hall, and without his friends. He clapped politely for every child sorted, regardless of house, and nodded at those who joined the Slytherin table. He was beginning to feel quite hungry when it finally ended and Dumbledore rose and motioned for silence.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts."

Harry only half listened to what the man was saying, expecting it to be a repeat of every other year. The only real difference tended to be whether he spoke before or after the meal.

"Finally, before we proceed with what will no doubt be an excellent meal, there is one other thing I should like to say, and some of you have already noticed what I am about to mention. Due to some highly unusual circumstances, Harry Potter has been re-sorted into Slytherin house. I know you will all respect his privacy on this matter. And now, let the feast begin!"

"As if," Harry muttered, then reached forward to load his plate. The first years were giving him looks of curiosity and wariness, but that came as no surprise, and Harry was able to appear largely disinterested. It wasn't until he had begun to eat that Zabini spoke again.

"This should be an interesting year, Potter."

Harry glanced over, then said, "Perhaps. Tell me something, if you feel so inclined. What constitutes bringing shame to this house?"

"Lack of visible solidarity."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Then I'll give you an example. If you get caught having words with, or fighting with, Malfoy outside our house, you will pay for it."

"I see. And inside?"

"The professor doesn't appreciate that, either. Another issue would be poor performance, though there are certain exceptions to that."

Harry snorted softly. "Are you saying that my new housemates will be forced into the semblance of accepting me to keep up the façade of house unity?"

"More or less."

"The best laid plans. . . . Well, optimism hasn't killed me yet." Harry forked a carrot and popped it into his mouth.

"Neither has your nemesis. And you've actually met him." It wasn't quite a question, but neither was it fully a statement.

Harry turned and said, "Tell me something. Are you here simply to satisfy morbid curiosity, or is there some other motive behind this?"

Zabini pressed the fingertips of one hand to his chest and gave him a vaguely hurt look. "You wound me."

Harry frowned and hissed in a low tone, "Since the day I stepped foot in the wizarding world I've been treated like a sideshow freak. Can you honestly sit there and tell me you wouldn't also be wondering if our positions were reversed?"

Zabini jerked back slightly and eyed him strangely, then leaned in to whisper, "Consider this, Potter. We have Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, Bullstrode. . . . Do you think any of them are sparkling conversationalists? I don't know about you, but I get more than a little tired of hearing Voldemort this and Voldemort that like he's the second coming."

Harry eyed him for a moment, then replied, "That's well and fine, but it doesn't exactly answer the question. I don't plan on being anyone's amusement of the week, Zabini. I get enough of this sidestepping rubbish from adults, so I don't need it from people my own age. Say what you mean."

Zabini licked his lips in what Harry was inclined to believe was a nervous habit. When he didn't say anything, Harry turned away to his meal and resumed eating, and several minutes had passed when Zabini cleared his throat softly, causing Harry to look over warily.

After leaning in again Zabini whispered, "I was hoping we could be friends." Then he pulled back and addressed his plate, very much not meeting Harry's eye.

_:Tom?:_

_:The Zabini family has no connection to Voldemort, Harry, despite pureblood status. It is possible that he is something of an outcast in your year, hence his motive for coming to talk to you, and his comments. He may be genuine, not to mention very lonely. He is one of those you never paid much notice to?:_

_:Yes. I think this is the first time I've even spoken to him. He was never one of those to torment me.:_

_:The fact that he's spent five years in Slytherin house already might explain his method of approach.:_

_:All right. I suppose the worst that can happen is I get made a fool of.:_ Harry shifted in his seat so that he was facing Zabini at an angle and waited until he looked over in response to the movement. As soon as he had, Harry stuck out his hand and said softly, "Hello, I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

After a slight pause Zabini shook his hand and said, "Blaise Zabini. Welcome to Slytherin."

An awkward silence descended, which Harry broke by saying, "Yes, I've met him, several times. Can't say as I'd like to repeat the experience."

"Is that so, Mr Potter." Harry whipped around to see Snape looming over him ominously. "Mr Zabini, since you took it upon yourself to sit with Mr Potter, you can also have the dubious delight of escorting him to your common room so that he doesn't get unfortunately lost."

"Yes, sir."

"I am also sure you will be thrilled beyond coherent speech to keep an eye on him in the coming weeks to make sure he does nothing to bring down my wrath."

"Yes, sir."

"Lovely." Snape turned smartly and stalked off, his robes flapping behind him.

Harry started to scowl, but caught himself. A moment later voices started to ring out calling the first years to follow, so Harry looked at Blaise and said, "Shall we?"

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	17. Returning

* * *

**— 17: Returning —**

* * *

Blaise nodded and stood, Harry standing a heartbeat later. As they walked toward the entrance Blaise said, "Several times?"

"Yes. As a baby, though that memory is understandably fuzzy, and at the end of every year except third."

"But . . . it was only confirmed that he had returned just recently."

"It's a bit of a long story," Harry said. "If you'd really like to know, I'll tell you, but not here."

"Right."

Harry grinned as they neared the doors and drifted to a stop next to Ron. "Ron, Blaise. Blaise, Ron."

Ron gave Blaise a speculative look, then said, "All right?"

"Yes. Try not to be late for breakfast. I'd like to compare schedules before class."

Ron scowled. "Hermione is already going on about revision plans."

Harry snickered, then turned when Blaise cleared his throat softly.

"Professor Snape always holds a meeting first night," he said.

"Er, right."

"Don't give him any excuses," Ron said in a low voice, then turned and headed out the doors.

Blaise jerked his head, so Harry nodded and followed him out, trying not to appear as though he knew where they were going. He was slightly startled when Blaise said, "It's nice that he's still your friend." A few steps further and Blaise came to a halt, then pointed at several spots in the hallway. "Those are your clues. There's no other place down here with this arrangement of sconces."

Then he walked a bit further and stopped beside a bare stretch of wall that didn't look any different from the rest. Once Harry was standing beside him he said quietly but clearly, "Heliotrope." As the wall disappeared he gave Harry a slight smile, then stepped through.

Harry didn't think much had changed since his last visit, though this time the common room was packed with students. It was far larger than Gryffindor's, which made it possible for him and Blaise to find seating without much difficulty. He ignored the staring and simply waited, grateful to a degree when Snape finally appeared in a swirl of sable robes.

"Quiet!" he barked. "I don't care that most of you have heard this before. It bears repeating, especially as some of you have skulls thick enough to require it. You are in Slytherin house, and as such you will do nothing to bring shame on it. Outside these rooms you will never engage in fights amongst yourselves, no matter how much you might despise one of your housemates."

Snape paused to glare at Harry before continuing. "The same also goes for when you are in here. Barring instructions to the contrary, I had better not hear even a whisper that you've disobeyed me. There are _no_ exceptions to this rule. I have more important things to do than break up or mediate childish bickering, and those of you who expect to move on to greater things when you leave Hogwarts would do well to heed my words."

Harry was given another glare, which he bore stoically. He found it interesting, though, that a caveat had been included, not to mention the other veiled reference to Voldemort.

"You will attend to your studies with due diligence, even those of you with fewer brains than a flobberworm. As always, points are awarded for tutoring housemates who are falling behind. If you must indulge in fighting with members of other houses, for Merlin's sake don't get caught! I cannot defend you if you do not have plausible deniability."

Harry patiently sat through several more minutes of Snape's instructions, breathing a careful sigh of relief when the man finally finished and swept off. He had half been expecting to be singled out more obviously. He blinked when Blaise tapped his forearm and said, "Come on. I'll show you where our rooms are."

Harry nodded and rose, noticing only as they began to walk toward one of the hallways branching off from the room that Malfoy was sitting in the middle of a cluster of his cronies, aiming one of his best death glares at him. Blaise led him away, turning sharply to the left when the corridor branched, then headed all the way to the end.

"There's nameplates, if you've noticed. This one is yours," he said, pointing to the right. "And apparently, mine is opposite."

"Do you want to come in? It's early enough yet, and I don't particularly feel like staying out there."

Blaise nodded, so Harry opened his door, idly wondering exactly what Dobby and Tom had done in the way of protections, and entered with Blaise behind him. "Wow," he breathed. "This is huge."

"Is it? It seems pretty normal to me," was Blaise's comment as he shut the door.

Harry gave a short laugh and turned around. "You've never seen my bedroom." Then he brightened as he saw a familiar object and rushed over to pick up his broom. "I may not be able to play anymore, but I am so glad to have this back."

"Because you love flying?"

Harry looked up and said, "Yes, but mainly because it was a gift from my godfather. He died recently, so. . . ." Harry shrugged and put his firebolt down, then wandered over to a chair, waving at the other one. Once Blaise had seated himself Harry asked, "I take it you aren't a supporter of Voldemort?"

Blaise shook his head. "No, my family never saw a reason to align with him. They've been able to accomplish their goals just fine without that, and they stand on the liberal side of things. I suppose you could say they're fairly neutral."

Harry pursed his lips, then smiled. "Voldemort never died, he just lost his body for a while. He can possess people, and did, like Quirrel. The only reason it took so long to confirm his return is because Fudge is an idiot, and refused to believe until an incident at the Ministry."

"So that article that appeared in the Quibbler was the unvarnished truth."

"Yup. Say, are we in any danger of someone bursting in here to give me grief?"

"No. As I understand it, only the room owner can open the door from the outside. It was like that in the dorms as well, though any prefect could walk in. I don't think that applies to upperclassman rooms."

_:Don't worry about it, Harry. I made sure that the only people who could open your door were you and Severus.:_

Harry nodded, then smiled sheepishly. "I feel kind of awkward. I would really like to take you at face value, but I'm not really sure what to do. A friend here would be nice."

Blaise gave him a smile that was almost shy and nodded. "Yeah. I have to admit I'm insanely curious about some things, though."

Harry gave a half shrug, which seemed to be permission enough for Blaise.

"I won't ask why it happened, but . . . Slytherin?"

"This is where the hat originally wanted me, but it ended up placing me in Gryffindor."

_:You know, Harry, you'd make a fine politician.:_

Harry grinned, causing Blaise to give him a slightly suspicious look and say, "Hm?"

Harry shook his head. "Just a stray thought. At least now I have my answer to how Malfoy would react. He was glaring at me quite fiercely earlier. Of course, I can't decide if that's simply because I'm still breathing, or because Slytherin rules say he isn't allowed to pick fights with me any longer. Perhaps both."

"I'd still be careful around him. I think he only leaves me alone because I'm pureblood and don't make waves," Blaise said, then stifled a yawn. "I think I need to go to bed. Didn't sleep much last night."

Harry nodded and smiled. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Blaise got to his feet, yawned, and nodded, then headed out to his own room.

"Hm." Harry slouched in his chair and looked around, noticing a nearly invisible door on one wall.

_:Facilities, Harry. It's not much, though. If you want something luxurious, you'd have to sneak into one of the prefect's bathrooms.:_

_:Don't care, so long as it gets me clean. Tom, you said nothing happened the times you snuck in?:_

_:Nothing was reported to Severus.:_

_:So what would happen if Dobby were to jump you in here?:_

_:In theory, nothing. Is that an invitation?:_

Harry concentrated for a moment, then smiled when Dobby popped into the room. "Hello, Dobby."

"Dobby is seeing master again!" the elf exclaimed.

"I'm very happy to see you, too. Do you feel up to helping me with a little test?"

"Of course, master."

"Can you go to Tom and try to jump him here so he can visit?"

Dobby gave him a toothy smile and disappeared. Thirty seconds later he was back, holding Tom's hand. Harry clapped in delight and bounced out of his chair.

"Dobby is coming back when master's friend is ready to go," announced the elf, then popped out.

Harry closed the distance quickly, then stopped and asked, "Are these rooms soundproof?"

"Yes. Also, I'll show you how to cast a revealing charm on your door so you can see who's knocking."

Harry thought that was a wonderful idea, but he was far more interested in other things. However, he waited until Tom had showed him and he had tried it for himself before moving along to his real goal. "Tom, dreams aren't real enough."

Tom tilted his head to the side and gave him a questioning look. "Is that your way of telling me you missed me?"

"Yes," Harry said softly. "I like that we can talk at almost any time, and that we can dream together, but what you said that one time—well, I suppose I prefer to reserve certain things for when you really are with me."

Tom placed a hand flat on Harry's chest and said, "Do you know what's odd about dreams? No heartbeats. And, where's the fun in making your heart race if I can't feel it?"

"I suppose I can understand that," Harry said with a tiny smile as he raised a hand to place over Tom's. "But, does your own?"

"Ah, Harry, if I were not who I am because of you, you wouldn't need to ask that question, as I'd have made it abundantly clear by now."

Harry felt slightly confused by that and gave Tom a faintly quizzical look that quickly faded as he made the connection and felt heat flood his cheeks. "Oh," he said as Tom's hand slid out from under his, up his chest and back to rest on his neck. A moment later Tom placed a hand at his hip and pulled, Harry unresisting, then drew him into another of those kisses that made the floor threaten to spin out from underneath him.

Several minutes later Harry felt as though he was clinging to Tom for dear life, and the touch of fingers sliding up under his shirt made him moan into Tom's mouth and sag. "I think my Harry likes that," came a whisper in his ear, then the sensation of sharp teeth nipping at his neck.

An absent thought flitted through his mind; he was wholeheartedly enjoying their embrace, but wondered just how far Tom planned to take things. Almost immediately Tom lifted his head and said, "Never any further than you want, Harry."

"That's not fair," he said in mild protest, slitting his eyes open.

Tom arched a brow. "I know," he responded with a quirk of his mouth, then guided Harry backward until his legs hit the bed. "But, this way, I have twice the assurance that I'm not doing anything you aren't ready for," he said, then pushed gently, crawling up over Harry as he lay down and initiating another probing kiss.

Harry couldn't quite argue with that logic and mentally shrugged, letting himself be drawn back to that dizzying state where the rough noises he was making didn't embarrass him as they might have, and using his own hands to tug and pull at Tom's shirt until he could slide his fingers against the warmth of Tom's back.

Another thought broached the haze in his mind, causing his fingers to dig into Tom's skin and his eyes to open. "Yes, but feeling like this," he said, "I'm not sure I would resist because I trust you."

Tom abandoned his neck and shifted to meet his gaze. "Even without love?" he asked softly.

"I'm not sure what that is," Harry said honestly.

Tom shifted position, almost so that he was lying beside Harry, though one hand remained under his shirt, idly stroking his chest. "I think it's different for everyone, Harry, and I think it consists of a number of different components."

"I'm not sure I understand," he said, watching curiously as Tom's brow furrowed.

"I don't know that I understand any better than you do, but perhaps. So here are some questions. If Blaise died tomorrow, would you feel more than sadness, sorrow?"

"I barely know him."

"What about Ron?"

Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes. "I would be just as torn up as I was over Sirius."

Tom nodded. "I think you love them, as friends, or family. You enjoy Ron's company, you're touched and happy that he's decided to stand by you, and it would hurt you a great deal if something happened to him. But you don't look to him for your own happiness, and I would bet that even if you were to end up in one of the communal showers with him, it wouldn't once cross your mind to look at him any differently than you have."

Harry shuddered at even the barest possibility of being attracted to Ron and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Tom chuckled. "Was that a little too incestuous?"

Harry gave him a half-hearted glare, then arched mindlessly as Tom's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. "Then how do you know?" he gasped.

"Some claim they just know, as though they woke up one morning and there it was. Some say it's in the way that person looks at them or treats them. But I think it's also about how you interact and what you appreciate normally. I look at you and see someone who really is my equal, with a sharp mind and wit, and a number of qualities I realize I admire. I like that even when you're scared you stay brave, and you accept help from others without thinking that it means you're weak."

Harry focused on his face again and said, "What are you trying to say?"

Tom smiled. "Only what I mean. But, I don't think it would be very hard for anyone to fall in love with you, including me. It's just a matter of time, or recognition. We trust each other, at least."

"Yes." Harry shivered as Tom's fingers glided over his stomach, then swept back upward. "You mean me, though, and you. Not the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord."

"Of course, Harry. I think those two have almost served their purpose, don't you? Soon enough it will be just us, two normal people. And a lot of that is thanks to you and your strange mind." He leaned in for a kiss, then pulled back as Harry squirmed. "What is it?"

"I'm hot."

"Well, you are still wearing your robes."

Harry squirmed again, then sat up as Tom shifted entirely off him, and shrugged the robes off his shoulders. After a moment of hesitation, and a swift bout of awkward shyness, he grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled that off, flinging it to the side, then relaxed back against the bed and tilted his head toward Tom.

"Very nice," Tom said in a hushed tone, his brows flirting up for a second, "and very tempting." A moment later he was back as he had been, half covering Harry's body with his own, and one hand sliding over Harry's chest in an almost possessive manner.

Harry's eyes fluttered shut as Tom's lips began to caress his collarbone, and arched again without thought, feeling Tom's obvious arousal fitted against him. He felt an almost irresistible urge to lay himself bare, but resisted it, even as his hips moved without conscious direction. He did not, however, resist when Tom guided his arms back over his head, then covered his body more fully and captured his mouth, teasing him into another kiss that threatened to suffocate him until he consciously remembered to breathe.

The hand that kept his own pinned out of the way both excited and scared him, but his excitement intensified as a hand was placed firmly on his hip, causing him to strain upward, a hand that guided his movements into a steady rhythm of mutual friction even as his mouth was plundered and explored. Harry knew he was flushed and moaning, but didn't care, so intent on submerging himself into the upwardly spiraling jolts of pleasurable electricity that coursed through his body.

He did not think it was strange, though he might have had he been able to think coherently, that he was rubbing himself against Tom like some animal. Every movement intensified the sensations he was feeling. Every movement of Tom's tongue in his mouth made him want to devour the man whole. And then, Tom captured his tongue and began suckling it, and grinding his hips more forcefully, and Harry completely lost control as his world exploded.

He vaguely heard a soft voice murmuring in his ear at some point, and gentle hands shifting his body, but that was all until he awoke the next morning, tucked under the covers and quite alone.

«« :: »»

Tom paced the room restlessly, pausing occasionally to mutter under his breath. Harry was making him feel like a teenager, threatening his control with those innocent eyes and unconscious allure. He had absolutely not intended to go that far, and it had taken what little control he had had left after Harry shredded it to cast cleansing charms on the both of them and get his bonded comfortably situated for sleep. He would have much preferred to strip himself and Harry, then get under the covers with him. But Harry trusted him, so he had not.

Desperate for something to take his mind off his desires, Tom slapped his thighs and pivoted, then made the decision to test some of Harry's ideas. He had chosen a suitable test subject, one of his meeker followers, for the first step in securing their plans. After nodding to himself, Tom morphed into the guise of Voldemort and pulled on appropriate robes, then apparated to his headquarters and grabbed the first Death Eater marked for termination he saw.

"Come!" he barked, then whirled and went to find the subject, eventually leading them both to the study he used. Once inside he stunned both of them and sent them into a type of stasis not unlike what a healer might use for a badly injured patient. The were both ignored until Tom had drawn enough of his own blood to perform the first part of the plan, then he used that to change the identity of the first man.

That left him tired, so he rested for a while, calling a house elf for refreshments, then took a short nap. Awake again, he carefully modified the second man's Dark Mark and sat back a while later with a smile of satisfaction. Before he proceeded further, though, he shifted to Hogsmeade long enough to talk to his bonded.

_:Harry?:_

_:I'm here.:_ Harry's reply was almost shy, making Tom smile.

_:I wanted to test some of your theories, Harry, in just a few minutes. You should probably block yourself for at least a half hour.:_

_:That's probably wise considering that I'm in class. Even if I am affected, though, I don't think it will be all that noticeable based on the last time.:_

_:Are you sure? I could wait.:_

_:No, it's okay. But I want to know what's happened afterward.:_

_:Of course, Harry. Contact me when you have a free few minutes.:_

_:I will.:_

Tom lost the sense of Harry's mind and deemed it safe enough to proceed, so he returned to his study and woke both men from their induced comas, but not until after he had restrained them and collected their wands. "You," he snarled at the first, "are a liability and no longer of any use to me." His wand raised, Tom aimed and cast almost negligently, whispering the words, "Avada Kedavra," and watching impassively as an almost blinding green light shot out and felled the man.

A split second later the other man slumped against his bindings. Tom arched a brow and stepped closer, then pulled back the man's sleeve. The Dark Mark no longer graced his arm and the man was completely unconscious.

"Harry, you are brilliant," he murmured, then touched his wand to the man's bare forearm and intoned, "Morsmordre." Once the mark was reestablished he proceeded to Obliviate the man's memories and return his wand. A house elf was called to drop him into one of the spare rooms to sleep it off, and Tom personally handled the corpse, removing it to his own house's back garden to be dealt with in much the same way that Peter had been.

When all was said and done, Tom was quite happy to return to his temporary home in Hogsmeade.

«« :: »»

Harry felt a wave of heat sweep through his body and sat up abruptly, the covers falling back to let cooler air caress him. He could only vaguely recall what happened after he had lost all sense of time and place, but assumed it must have been Tom who had put him to bed. He found it reassuring that he was still wearing his jeans, though his shoes had been removed and were presently on the floor next to the bed.

He slipped out of bed and padded into the attached room, shedding his remaining clothing, and had a shower, then brushed his teeth after only a cursory attempt at taming his hair. He had barely finished dressing when a knock came at his door, which turned out to be Blaise, so he opened it and stepped back so that Blaise could enter.

"I hate first days. You never know what classes you're going to be in, so you have to wonder if you should bring everything, or cut breakfast short so you can go back to your room and get only what you need," Harry remarked.

Blaise nodded and smiled, obviously in agreement, then gave a backward tap to the rucksack he had slung over one shoulder.

"I only have five classes, so I'll just bring all of them," Harry said, then went to his trunk and opened it, pulling out his rucksack. Having already put his books into it before he left headquarters, he simply slung it over his shoulder and closed the trunk. "I guess I'm ready, then."

Harry sat at the extreme end of the table again, back to the wall, and Blaise took the seat next to him. He again felt a bit out of place, though it was more due to the first years sitting at his end of the table, giving him and Blaise odd looks. He shrugged it off as he had the evening before and ate, making only intermittent conversation with Blaise. He did wonder, though, how much trouble Blaise was going to come in for with their housemates for having rather obviously attached himself to Harry.

Some time later a shadow fell across their end of the table. Snape was looming, holding a stack of parchment. "First years," he said, then handed a set to the child opposite Harry. "Potter. Zabini." Two sheets were thrust out and taken, then Snape continued on down the table. Harry watched for a minute, noticing that once he got past the groups of younger years Snape simply dropped the remainder of the stack on the table and kept walking.

He glanced at his own schedule, then did a double take, staring in a kind of bewildered horror at the notation for the first class on Mondays—Potions. "What!?" he breathed, causing Blaise to bump his shoulder as he tried to see.

"What's wrong?"

Harry stabbed a finger at the paper, then flicked his eyes to the top of the page to make sure it really did have his name on it. "I don't understand," he said in a hushed voice. He leaned forward and looked down the table, but Snape was already exiting the hall. Harry frowned and swung his head around to the head table. After whispering, "I'll be right back," to Blaise, Harry rose and walked over to stand before the headmaster.

"Yes, Harry?"

He hopped onto the dais and passed over his schedule. "Sir, is this right? I don't understand why I have Potions. I know Professor Snape only takes Outstandings."

Dumbledore unleashed one of those gentle smiles and said, "Ah, Harry, five classes is really too few. I thought it would be best to ensure your inclusion in that class, especially given your goal of becoming an auror."

As Harry took back the schedule he said, "But—"

"I have also taken the liberty of securing the supplies you will be needing, so do not worry on that account," Dumbledore continued as though he had not heard, then gave him a vaguely expectant look.

Harry bit his lip, then remembered what he was supposed to be playing at and lowered his gaze. "Yes, sir, of course. I'll do my best not to disappoint you. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You run along now, Harry."

Harry looked up and produced a timorous smile, then nodded and stepped off the dais to return to Blaise. Inwardly he was seething, and wondering if this was another attempt on Dumbledore's part to force him to cooperate with Snape. He also wondered if Snape had even been told, and if his little act had come across as blindly trusting the guidance of the headmaster, or as a little too submissive.

"What was that all about?" Blaise whispered.

"I wasn't expecting to be in Potions, that's all." Harry blinked and bit his lip. "I never did the holiday work," he whispered. "Professor Snape is going to kill me."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	18. Just Another Day

* * *

**— 18: Just Another Day —**

* * *

Ron met them at the doors and gave a faint nod to Blaise before shoving his schedule in front of Harry's face. Harry made a quick comparison to his own. "We have them the same."

"Then how about a game of chess?"

Harry sighed and showed Ron his schedule, then said, "There's still fifteen minutes before class starts. I'm sorry, but I better go now and tell Professor Snape I never did the holiday work. Get it over with. I'll explain later, all right?"

Ron scowled heavily. "Yeah. Tell me this afternoon."

Harry gave him an apologetic look and headed for the dungeons, arriving well before anyone else (aside from Blaise, who slipped into a seat at the back). Snape looked up and glared as Harry approached him.

"Sir, I, er, just now found out that I've been put in Potions. I didn't do the holiday work you assigned and. . . ." Having got that far, Harry realized he had no idea what to say.

Snape turned up the intensity of his glare and said, "How terribly remiss of you to neglect that particular pleasure, Potter. You will stay behind after class. Now get out of my sight."

Harry nodded and stepped back, then turned and headed straight for Blaise, taking the seat next to him. After a deep breath he pulled supplies from his bag and arranged them, then fiddled with his quill as other students began to filter in and take seats. Hermione was one of those students. She stopped dead when she saw him, raised her brows, then took a seat half way back next to a girl Harry vaguely recognized as being in Ravenclaw.

After suffering through a lengthy lecture on advanced healing potions, prefaced by pointed threats of being dropped from the class for those too stupid to keep up, Harry reluctantly put away his supplies and got to his feet, then turned at a touch on his arm.

"Would you like me to wait for you?" Blaise asked quietly.

Harry gave him a grateful smile and nodded, then took a deep breath and approached the professor's desk; Snape ignored him until the room cleared out.

"Mr Potter, I expect that you will have that work done and turned in by the next class. If you do not, you can expect to spend a week in detention, and I promise you that it will not be pleasant. Now, hand over your schedule."

Harry reminded himself repeatedly to not react and fished his schedule out, placing it on the desk where Snape could reach it without straining. The professor flipped it around, studied it for a moment, then scrawled some notes on the bottom and pushed it back.

"You will present yourself to me on those two nights, each week, without fail. You will also be on time, Mr Potter, or face detention. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then kindly take yourself from my sight," Snape said in clipped tones, almost as though he were biting off each word.

Harry scooped up the schedule and turned, forcing himself to walk, not run, out the door and into the relative safety of the hall. Blaise was waiting, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against as soon as he saw Harry. "Where were you planning on heading?"

Harry shoved the schedule back in his bag and rubbed his forehead. "I don't have anything until after lunch. You?"

Blaise shook his head. "The same. I have Ancient Runes then."

"My room? Or yours?"

Blaise smiled and said, "Sure."

«« :: »»

"Am I being pushy if I ask what all that was about?"

Harry sighed and slumped into a chair, dumping his bag on the floor. "Snape gave me until the next class to do the summer work. I don't even remember what the assignment was."

"It's all right. I still have it written down. I can go get it now if you want," Blaise offered.

"Only if you really don't mind."

"It's no trouble. I'll be right back." Blaise turned and left.

Harry felt, in a way, somewhat like he had when he had been obsessing over whether or not to trust Tom, though to a lesser degree. He definitely couldn't ask Blaise to submit to veritaserum, though. The very thought of it made him laugh. A sharp rap on the door had him rise and move to open it, then freeze as he realized it was not Blaise, but Malfoy.

"So, Potter. Are you finally willing to admit that I was right back then? I can't imagine how you pulled this off, but don't think it will change anything. I haven't forgotten, and whatever it is you're up to, it won't work. All you've done is given up the safety of your gilded little tower. I hope you enjoy being played with before the end of your pathetic excuse for a life." He paused, smirked, then said, "Watch your back, Potter," before pivoting and striding off down the hall.

Harry blinked and stuck his head out to glance around the doorframe, then jumped when he heard a throat being cleared. After smiling sheepishly at Blaise, he stepped back and let him enter, then closed the door firmly. "Well, I'm glad that's over with," he said, then wandered back to sit down. "He's probably been aching to say that since he found out I was re-sorted."

Blaise handed over a sheet of parchment and sat down. "He may not be able to get at you directly, Harry, but he will try. His pride won't allow anything else. He's been ranting about you since first year."

"Yeah. But, I don't always care. I mean, think about how many things have been said about me since I came to Hogwarts, and how much of it is actually true? The people who matter know better, and isn't that what really counts?"

"What about your own pride?"

Harry laughed softly. "Pride is . . . knowing that the garden I planted grows well under my care, or having made progress on a fault. Damaged pride is losing respect for myself because of a mistake I've made or a wrong I've committed knowingly."

Blaise eyed him appraisingly, then shook his head. "You're a strange person, Harry."

Harry laughed again, more loudly. "That reminds me of something a friend keeps telling me." Then he frowned and looked at Blaise intently. "Are you going to be in trouble because of this? Yes, I know, Snape more or less ordered you to keep an eye on me, and that's a lovely excuse if that's all it is, but if it isn't? Are you going to come in for harassment because of me?"

Blaise appeared mildly surprised. "You needn't worry about me, Harry. I've lived down here for five years already."

"Yes, but—"

"Don't. I think I finally have a chance to talk to someone here who isn't a loyalist fanatic, likely to blackmail me, or spill my secrets the moment my back is turned."

Harry started to respond, paused, then said, "All right." He glanced briefly at the parchment in his hand. "Could you explain what this says? I can't read your handwriting."

«« :: »»

Ron was once again waiting for him at the doors. He gave another of those assessing looks to Blaise, along with a slight nod, then dragged Harry off toward Hagrid's hut for class. "All right," he said in an undertone as they walked, "what's the deal with Potions, and what's the deal with Zabini?"

Harry glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then ran a hand through his hair and growled. "Professor Dumbledore got me into the class." He shot an exasperated look at Ron. "I was almost happy when I got my OWL results and realized I only had an Exceeds Expectations. No more Potions! I didn't find out until this morning."

"But why?"

"I think . . . it was so I wouldn't have as much free time to . . . I don't know. Think about Sirius? Well, that and the career advice talk with McGonagall. But, do I even want to be an auror?" Harry scratched his head. "I think Hermione was surprised to see me in there, though."

"Did she sit with you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not with me or near me, actually. I don't know if that's because things are still awkward, or because I was sitting with Blaise."

"Right, about him. . . ."

Harry shrugged. "He came over initially to see if I was planning on causing trouble for Slytherin. I told him I never plan stuff like that, it just happens." Ron snickered, and Harry briefed him on the rest of the conversation. "I dunno. He seems nice enough, but I guess time will tell. He said he thinks it's nice that we're still friends."

Whatever Ron had been about to say was cut off when Harry said, "Oh!" then told him about Malfoy. By then they had arrived, with Harry looking around for Hagrid while trying to appear not to be doing so, finally spotting him emerging from around the back.

They were hailed immediately. Hagrid strode over heavily, a broad smile on his face. "Hello, Harry. Ron."

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said with a grin. "How's Grawp?"

"He's fine! Learnin' more words, too! I fixed him up right nice after that scuffle in the forest."

"I'm very glad to hear that. He saved our lives."

"I'm not sure if he entirely understands what he did, but—" Hagrid broke off and switched his gaze to over Harry's and Ron's heads. "Yer classmates are comin'. Best to get ready."

Harry and Ron nodded and moved off to sit down on a nice spot of grass. "Seems Hagrid is just fine," Ron commented.

"Yeah," Harry said a little wistfully. "I was wrong to think for even a second that he would—"

Ron shrugged. "Well, it's not so strange. I mean, I haven't started screaming bloody murder over you chatting up Zabini, so Hagrid being the same as always pales in comparison."

Harry grinned and punched Ron on the arm. "Thank you," he said, then, "Ron, do you think Hermione is acting so oddly because she's still thinking things over, or because she still thinks I'm a complete idiot?"

"I'm not sure," Ron said, lowering his voice as more students arrived and found places to sit. "She may have said she was wrong, but she didn't apologize. And, she didn't say what she was wrong about, either."

"All right, everyone, settle down!" Hagrid called out, then launched into an only slightly halting speech about the new year and what was to be expected. Harry stopped listening after only a few minutes, mildly surprised that Hagrid had not simply hauled them all over to yet another dangerous group of creatures with a beaming smile.

He was distracted from his abstraction on hearing Tom's voice in his head, and readily agreed to attempt to block himself off, though he was mightily curious as to what his bonded was up to. His theories, sure, but what exactly? As soon as Tom left his mind he spent a minute doing some visualization exercises, then turned his attention back to Hagrid, who had produced a series of crates from somewhere and was just opening them up.

They spent the next half hour giving kneazles attention. No one seemed to have the heart to mention that they had gone over them the previous year, or perhaps it was simply that everyone was relieved at Hagrid's choice and didn't want to spoil things.

There was only one point of contention and it was entirely in Harry's own mind, and at that it was fleeting. He had frozen in the act of petting his kneazle, something whispering at the edge of his mind, distracting him. He felt . . . inexplicably dispassionate, then satisfied. Then it was over, and the kneazle was saying, "Meh," in an impatient tone.

"Harry?"

He blinked and began stroking the creature again. "It's nothing. I just felt really strange for a moment," he said, then began telling Ron all about Snape's first night speech.

As they walked back to the castle a bit later Ron said, "I don't know, Harry. It almost sounds like Snape is protecting you."

Harry gave him a confused look. "Of course he is. I expect Dumbledore would have his head otherwise."

Ron shook his head stubbornly. "No, that isn't what I mean. Merlin, Harry, all he did was glare at you. Aside from that, he didn't do anything we might expect. Honestly, can't you just see him giving you the dressing down of your life in front of the other Slytherins? The veiled threats, the insults, the utter disgust at having you in _his_ house? What about his supposed cover?"

"Oh, Ron, come on. He's saved my life how many times now? Voldemort was _there_. He has to know that Snape is a traitor. If Snape is still spying, he's doing it on a level that nobody understands. As for the students, he more or less shouted that he was awaiting orders from Voldemort. Besides, remember what Blaise said? House solidarity. Those rules have been in place for years." Harry couldn't very well come out and tell Ron that Snape was embroiled in what could be considered a three-way spying gig.

Ron shook his head again, but didn't comment. Instead he said, "_Now_ can we have a game of chess?"

«« :: »»

Harry looked up from the table in surprise when people started filtering in and realized it was just coming up on dinner. He was just thankful that Ron had agreed to play the game at the Hufflepuff table, as though it was neutral territory. A second later Ginny bounced up with a bright smile and said, "Harry!"

"Hi, Ginny."

She sat down and leaned closer. "Are we going to be continuing the DA?"

Harry blinked and scratched his neck. "Uh. . . ."

"I had a Defense lesson today." Ginny leaned in even closer and whispered, "The man is a complete idiot."

Harry made a motion to wait, then helped Ron pack up the chess set. Once that was taken care of, they left the table and headed for the corner of the hall on the Gryffindor side. "Ginny, have you even talked to others who were in the DA? I mean, do you think everyone is simply going to accept that I was re-sorted? Into Slytherin?"

Ginny tossed her hair back and placed her hands on her hips. "Sod them. If they can't handle it, then fine, but it's no reason to stop, Harry. I'm telling you, Professor Flaxweld is an idiot!"

"All right, look," he said after a glance at Ron. "Talk to the other members. Let me at least see for myself what he's like. We can discuss this again at the weekend?"

Ginny gave him a long stare, then nodded. "Okay, Harry. You do have a point."

Harry gave her a quick hug. "Thanks. I need to get to my table." To Ron he said, "We're going to have to work something out about meeting. It isn't like we can visit in each other's rooms."

Ron nodded, then grabbed Ginny and headed off to take seats. Harry gave a slight sigh and pivoted, making his way quickly to his now usual seat. Blaise was already waiting for him and gave him a faint smile. "Both of them?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not so sure about anyone else," he whispered with a shrug, then shrugged a second time at the look of surprise on Blaise's face.

"But—"

"I don't know. Well, that's not entirely true. I can think of one other person, but then, nothing ever seems to phase her." Harry smiled softly, then loaded his plate as the food appeared.

After dinner Harry and Blaise retired to Harry's room to get started on their Potions work. Harry really was quite curious to know how harshly Snape would be marking his papers.

_:Harry, you spelled erumpent incorrectly.:_

_:I di—oh, no. Tom, I'm so sorry. I forgot.:_

_:Harry, it's all right. I've peeked in several times and saw that you were enjoying yourself. I can wait until Blaise leaves. However, you know Severus will mark you down for mistakes.:_

Harry bit his lip and studied his parchment, flicking his quill back and forth. _:Has Voldemort sent instructions to Snape yet?:_

_:I was thinking I might do that this evening, in person.:_

_:Oh?:_

_:And since Severus cannot leave Hogwarts without some difficulty, I shall simply have to go there.:_

Harry straightened slightly, not at all interested in doing his work now. Of course, he hadn't been terribly interested in the first place, but now he really couldn't care less about the assignment.

_:Harry. You've only got a little bit more to go. Once you're done you can fake being tired or having a headache. I'll even check it over for you and help you with the holiday assignment if you behave now.:_

Harry fought back a grin and bent his head, dipping his quill into the inkwell and bravely tackling the remainder of the assignment. He was startled into looking up a short time later at the sound of an expansive yawn. "Blaise?"

Blaise blinked a few times and dropped his hand. "Sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well. I need to go lie down." He gathered his things and packed them away, sending an apologetic smile at Harry. "Tomorrow?"

"Of course. Same as today." Harry watched as his . . . friend . . . left his room, then immediately leapt to his feet.

_:Yes, Harry.:_

Harry concentrated, then asked Dobby to please jump Tom to him when the elf appeared. Thirty seconds later he was back, and Harry held up a hand to prevent the elf from leaving as Tom took a seat. "Please wait a moment, Dobby."

Harry dropped into his seat again and scratched out a quick note, then folded it, addressed it, and handed it over. "Dobby, would you please deliver this to Professor Snape, and wait for his answer? If he agrees, I would like you to jump him in here."

"Yes, master. Dobby is being happy to."

Harry rose again and took the few steps to stand next to Tom, gazing at him silently. Then he blushed. Tom chuckled softly and reached out to caress Harry's hand, then hold it, not even flinching when Dobby popped back in with Severus.

"Dobby is bringing Professor Snape, master."

Harry did not step away or turn around. "Thank you, Dobby," he said softly, hearing another pop a second later.

"Severus, please have a seat."

It wasn't until Harry heard his professor claim one of the chairs that he moved. He stepped closer to Tom, then swiveled and sat on the arm of the chair, his own arm now draped across his lap, his hand still in Tom's. "Thank you for coming, sir," he said, looking up to meet the man's eyes.

After a moment Snape inclined his head.

"Your opening night statements stand, Severus. If it becomes necessary to reinforce them among the more stubborn of our dear Slytherins, please do. In Voldemort's name, that is. And, if it becomes necessary, get word to me and I will intervene directly."

Snape nodded.

"Malfoy's already threatened me," Harry said cheerfully.

"Ah, yes." Tom chuckled. "It's almost tempting to polyjuice someone just to see what the boy would do with that opportunity."

Harry snorted. "I'm not sure I want to know what constitutes Malfoy's idea of playing, Tom."

"Potter."

Harry's head snapped up. "Yes, sir?"

"I was astounded to note that you did passable work on your summer assignment. Perhaps if you continue in that vein you may actually manage to pass your NEWT."

Harry gaped, then snapped his mouth shut and frowned in confusion. After shooting a suspicious look at his professor Harry said, "Er, thank you, sir."

_:I think that is his way of telling you it was a ruse in case anyone was listening, Harry.:_

Harry glanced at Tom, then back to Snape. "I will try my best to do well, sir." Frankly, Harry thought the situation was screwy. He didn't like having to address Snape formally while Tom was sitting there. It deeply underscored that he was still underage, and certainly that he had to play a certain role. He wasn't sure if it was simply his tendency toward a problem with authority, or that their mutual situation made it stand out that much more.

"Severus, Harry and I will be conducting Occlumency lessons in the Chamber of Secrets. And, as Harry has pointed out, there may still be remains of the basilisk down there that he killed. Would you be interested in checking that out with me?"

Snape had the appearance of someone who had come to attention, even though he had not moved. "Yes, I would."

"Could you refrain from scheduling any detentions you need to supervise personally this coming Friday evening? I thought we could check it out then." When Snape nodded Tom said, "By the way, did Dumbledore actually deliver those supplies he promised, Harry?"

Harry frowned and said, "Not that I'm aware of."

"Get them from me tomorrow evening, Potter," Snape said. "I believe this is another attempt on Dumbledore's part to force us to interact in a civilized manner."

Harry noticed that Snape wasn't as sarcastic as he could have been, but made no comment, just nodded.

"Harry, did you bring your Potions texts from the previous years or leave them behind?"

Harry gave Tom another look. _:You're doing this now to play buffer, aren't you?:_

_:Why yes, so I am.:_

Harry shook his head. "I left them behind. I can ask Dobby to get them for me. Why?"

"I was thinking you might like to use your time with Severus in the evenings to brush up on prior years. After all, your cover was Remedial Potions previously, correct?"

To Snape's not so obvious surprise, Harry smiled. "That's right. That's a wonderful idea. But. . . ." Harry ruffled his hair. "Do you think the headmaster would be showing up unexpectedly to check up on us, professor?"

"No. I am quite sure he would believe that detrimental." Then he changed the subject. "The raids?"

Tom let his head drop back for a moment. "I have sent a number of teams on a wild goose chase. Expect to hear news of countless book shops in the muggle world being hit."

"To what end?"

"To make Dumbledore believe the status quo remains, and that Voldemort is after something specific. Perhaps . . . an obscure fairy tale."

"Such as a Simurgh?"

Harry could feel Tom's smile. "Why not? Voldemort is mad after all, and why not going after a legendary creature thought to possess such knowledge? If it keeps Dumbledore happy in his ignorance, I shall not complain."

"Oh!" Harry turned a very curious gaze on Tom. "I forgot again. Your test?"

Snape shifted in his chair as Tom grinned and nodded. "Of course. It went quite well, Harry. Your ideas worked beautifully. I will continue to experiment, though at some point I will need blood from you to be without doubt."

"Just ask," Harry said, pleased and smiling widely. "You did it manually, though?"

"Yes. That is something I have still to work out and test. Do you mind if Severus and I retire to his office for a short while so that I can explain things to him?"

"Of course not. I'll read your gift while I wait."

"Very good."

Harry concentrated, then pulled his hand from Tom's and slipped off the chair. After kneeling down in front of Dobby he whispered, "Will you do me a favor? Will you listen for Tom's call from now on in case he needs transportation?"

Dobby nodded firmly.

"Thank you," he whispered, then said normally, "Will you transport Professor Snape to his office, then come back and bring Tom to him?"

"Yes, master."

«« :: »»

Severus had already engaged the additional wards by the time Tom arrived and was sitting behind his desk. Tom took the first available chair as Severus said, "What is this test mentioned?"

Tom smirked. "I'm beginning to think that Harry is a mastermind in disguise, Severus. He keeps hitting me with such odd ideas. It's amazing. That, and he's been manipulating Dumbledore flawlessly."

"The test?" Severus repeated.

"It is very simple, yet complex, and it has everything, in the end, to do with what the sorting hat had to say. There was another prophecy, spoken by Harry's mother. It made it plain that should Harry defeat Voldemort, he would also die. And yes, Severus, I now know the original prophecy. Dumbledore is quite firm in his beliefs. He cannot conceive that were it the other way around I would also die. So, that brings us to the first point."

"Which is?"

"Harry and Voldemort both need to die," he said simply, then waited.

Severus arched a brow. "And this test concerned your plans to get around that minor detail."

"Naturally. Others will die in our places. And, when that time comes, those who are loyal will also die, and those who remain will be stripped of their Dark Marks. I ran a fairly simple test today and it worked flawlessly. I'm looking forward to it, actually. I think it will be a great deal of fun."

"And I?"

Tom pursed his lips, then smiled. "A simple enough spell I would imagine. Just something to make you fall unconscious at the right time, so that Dumbledore does not suspect should you be in his company, or if he should come to you soon after the deed."

"And this is all the brat's idea?"

"His ideas, my execution. It's brilliant. Today I altered the identity of a Death Eater on my list to my own, then modified the Dark Mark of a test subject. When I killed the first, the second blacked out and his mark disappeared. Naturally, I replaced it and obliviated him. I will need to try it with more people next time, and figure out if Harry's other idea will work such that I need not waylay every Death Eater in the ranks in order to modify their marks manually. Some to die, some to live, depending, when the substitutes die. Then again, I do need to question all of them, so I suppose I could simply do it at those times. I am simply amazed at the way Harry's mind works."

Severus sneered. "You sound like a swain prattling on about his beloved."

That stopped Tom cold for a moment. Was he? He brought a finger to his lips and considered. Was he just enthusiastic over such a bright mind, or was he actually burbling like a lovesick beau over the object of his affections? He thought he'd simply been explaining what had been going on.

"You're actually falling for the little brat, aren't you?" Severus accused.

"I—you may be right." Tom shook his head and continued, "But that isn't the point. Harry is the one who has come up with the master plan, Severus. A plan that has every chance of working. I'll be free, he'll be free, and so will you."

He paused, then said, "Severus, if there's ever something you need to tell me urgently, find Harry."

"So it can wait until he is asleep?"

Tom shook his head. "What he knows, I know, if he chooses to allow it. Which reminds me. This Blaise Zabini fellow. . . ."

"Quiet, studious, never in trouble. Holds himself apart from the rest of the house, or at least from those with clear connections to Voldemort. I perceive no obvious danger."

"This is why you told him to keep an eye on Harry, then."

"Yes." Severus gave him a speculative look. "Why?" he asked. "And don't mention the bond."

"Why?" Tom asked in surprise. "I suppose it's a number of things. He's brave, gutsy, and quite smart. He doesn't back down from me and never has, even when he's been so scared he's shaking. He's also kind, caring, and thoughtful. He's not afraid to sit there and tell me his fears, or afraid to work at diminishing them, along with his faults. He's not so weak as to disdain help, or to ask others for advice. And he's not so blind as to continue letting others lead without questioning their motives and what's in it for him. Those qualities have the effect of making me question myself. In short, he's worth it."

"And the bond?"

"I'd like to think of that as an unequalled opportunity for my eyes to be opened to the possibilities."

"What he knows, you know?"

Tom shrugged. "Partly bond telepathy, partly possession. If necessary, you could speak to me through him. And while he has managed to almost entirely block me out, we will work to be sure of it. He's had precious little in the way of making his own choices, Severus. This should be one of them. Unfortunately, he only seems to be able to see through my eyes at certain times. It doesn't seem to bother him, though."

Severus sighed heavily. "You're determined to make me like the brat, aren't you."

"You did ask, Severus. It's up to you what comes of the information you hear. All I have asked for is that you not humiliate him, especially now that he's in Slytherin."

"To humiliate him now would be to tell his housemates that he is fair game," Severus pointed out.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	19. Tempting

* * *

**— 19: Tempting —**

* * *

Harry marked his page as Tom arrived again and closed the book.

"Severus had a very interesting accusation," Tom said casually.

Harry raised his brows in a show of interest and drew his head back slightly.

"He thinks I'm falling for you."

Harry's brows dropped as he straightened. "Why would he think that?"

Tom blinked slowly and said, "He accused me of—how did he put it?—prattling on like a swain about his beloved."

"Are you?" A fairly important question in Harry's mind, all things considered. He had been thinking about what Tom had said the night before, and was inclined to agree to the extent that he could understand. Having several strong friendships to serve as a comparison helped, as well, though he admitted, even if only to himself, that the existence of bond itself really was a huge factor in how he was . . . handling things. Did it make things . . . safe? He was beginning to think it did.

And, there was definitely no question that Tom could play him into a drunken stupor. That part was great. But did it have anything to do with love? He supposed it must. But then again, he had developed a crush on Cho for a while and he sure as hell didn't love her. On the other hand, he had spent time getting to know Tom before sexuality ever really came into the picture. So, did that matter so much?

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when Tom said, "Yes, I believe I am."

That made him think again about what Tom had said. Could he say that Tom's death would have a profound effect on him? Well, aside from the part where he would also die. Harry smiled softly; it brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'it would kill me.' He focused on Tom again and looked at him intently, running a list of attributes through his mind, then sidestepping mentally into the idea of how he would feel should something horrible befall his bonded. He shuddered almost immediately; Tom made him feel free and unfettered.

_:Harry?:_

Harry blinked slowly and focused on Tom again. "Huh? Oh." He tapped his temple, not realizing his eyes were already drifting off to one side again as he thought about things. Then he remembered his research and gave a slight sigh of relief. The bond did not in any way compel him. He had a very good idea, though, that if he just sat back, he would slide right into it even before he actually understood what he was feeling.

He blinked again and smiled. "That makes me happy, Tom. I'd say more about that, but I have no idea how to articulate some things."

Tom nodded and stepped closer.

"Is there any business we need to discuss?" Harry asked, head tilted to one side.

"Not that I can think of."

Harry laid his book on the bedside table. "That also makes me happy. Can I tempt you into a kiss now?"

Tom took another step, arched his brow, then placed one hand on his hip. "Tempt me?"

That had not exactly been what Harry had meant—that is, if he was reading things right. He could, of course, put on a little show. If he was brave enough. But would that come across as being too tempting? Or rather, cruel.

"Maybe I should tempt you," Tom said, lifting his other hand to finger the top button of his shirt. After a moment it slipped free and Tom's hand lowered to the next.

Harry watched silently as each button was undone, as more and more of Tom's skin was exposed. It wasn't until Harry licked his lips that he realized he was becoming aroused, at which point he stood and approached his bonded, reaching out to tentatively touch his fingers to Tom's chest. The differences were interesting. Harry knew, objectively, that he had little to complain about when it came to his own physique. Yes, he could stand to put on more weight, and perhaps now he would be able to and keep it given that his family had been taken care of, but Tom. . . .

Tom's chest and stomach were finely muscled and absolutely hairless. It made him think, briefly, of serpents. As he pushed the shirt from Tom's shoulders he noticed that his bonded's were broader then his own, making Tom's waist and hips seem that much more narrow in comparison. Again he noticed that scent that seemed to be uniquely Tom's, prompting him to press his lips to the skin before him, then flick his tongue out to taste.

The barest hint of salt. He reached around and began to un-tuck Tom's shirt as he tentatively feasted on his bonded's chest, then removed it entirely and tossed it to one side. Tom's back was also hairless; his questing hands found only silken warmth. When his mouth latched on to one of Tom's nipples, though, Harry found himself being pushed backward toward the bed.

Tom slipped from his embrace and laid down, toeing off his shoes, then brought one arm back to rest on the bed above his head while the other—long fingers trailed over his chest and stomach.

Harry let out a ragged sigh. "Yes, tempting," he said, then crawled onto the bed, letting his lips and tongue follow the trail left behind by those fingers. He simply could not imagine doing this with a female. They were too soft, shaped wrongly. Tom's own breathing was becoming less even and the movement of his hand jerky, and that aroused Harry even more, prompting him to sink his teeth into the junction of Tom's neck and shoulder, foregoing the game of follow the leader.

That brought forth a distinct moan, but rather than cover Tom's body with his own, Harry worked his way up Tom's neck even as he let one hand trail down his chest to tease at the waist of his bonded's trousers. An arch of hips greeted his actions and Harry snarled, biting savagely before moving his mouth to capture Tom's and slide his tongue inside to dance. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband and teased, then slipped back out so he could ghost lower over the fabric.

Tom arched again and moaned into his mouth, making Harry feel a heady sense of accomplishment that he could cause such a reaction. He pulled his head away, breathing heavily, and waited until Tom opened his eyes. "Take these off," he whispered, stroking more firmly, watching as his bonded's eyes half closed in pleasure. "Show me?"

Tom hesitated, looking at him closely, though Harry rather thought that his continued stroking was interfering quite handily with actual cognition. After a minute Tom said, "Yes," so Harry moved to the side and sat. Tom hauled himself up, then stood and faced him, placing one hand where his trousers were buttoned. "Are you certain?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

Tom nodded and proceeded to undress, never taking his eyes from Harry's, and with no signs of embarrassment. Once he was naked he waited, one hand coming to rest on his hip again. "And you?"

Harry blinked, then blushed, though not because of where his eyes were drawn. He was, in fact, fascinated. Still, fair was fair, so Harry slipped off the bed and shrugged off his robes, them fumbled with the hem of his shirt as he toed off his shoes.

Tom stepped forward with a soft chuckle and said, "May I help?" Harry gave a faint nod so Tom dealt with the shirt himself, taking care not to snag Harry's glasses, then reached down to unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper open. After that he stepped back and stretched out on the bed again, ostensibly not paying attention as Harry removed the remainder of his clothing.

Harry had almost crawled back onto the bed when he remembered his wand holster and promptly blushed again. He rolled his eyes as Tom sat up and removed it for him, then placed it onto the bedside table. When he had crawled onto the bed Tom said quietly, "What is it that you want, Harry?"

"You aren't peeking, are you."

Tom shook his head lazily. "I need you to tell me."

"I—" What was it he wanted? "Not . . . everything." Did that even make sense?

Tom nodded and pushed him down, onto his back. "That's fine, Harry," he said as he half covered Harry's body with his own and slipped one thigh between Harry's carefully. "I'll show you something new, though, and if you find you don't like it, you be sure to tell me so I can stop." He licked Harry's lower lip, then said, "Or would you prefer that I did peek, so you needn't find the words?"

Harry groaned as Tom's teeth found his neck and a hand found his arousal, then closed his eyes. "Peek," he managed to say, gritting his teeth against the urge to arch.

"Ah, Harry, let it go," Tom whispered. "You have no idea how much it pleases me to hear and feel you respond. But, I think, you have no need for these."

Harry felt his glasses being slipped from his face, then that hand was back, stroking him and making his head spin. Why didn't it feel this good when he was alone?

Tom chuckled and nipped his neck, then whispered, "It's like food, Harry. It always tastes better when someone else cooks it. And, there's always the excitement of not knowing what I might do, especially when you aren't looking, or can't. Like . . . this."

Harry felt fingers caress the junction between his torso and thigh, and sucked in his breath with a hiss as he arched without thought.

"I think my Harry likes that," Tom commented, then proceeded to kiss Harry until he was breathless and dazed, all the while stroking and caressing softly. Tom then changed his attack, slowly working his way down Harry's chest and stomach, shifting position until he was kneeling between Harry's legs. By then, Harry wouldn't have known what embarrassment was even had he looked it up in the dictionary. All he knew was that he was aching with an intensity he had never felt before.

"You are exquisite, Harry," Tom murmured.

Harry opened his eyes to see a blurry, lowering dark mass, then closed them and arched at the feeling of Tom's lips brushing against him, another moan torn from his lips at the contact. He could feel those same lips stretch to a smile against his heated flesh, then a very wet tongue lash out, making his eyes squeeze shut even tighter momentarily. He lost track after that, feeling as he did almost as though he was lying in the surf, the water like waves of pleasure cresting over his body, to recede and come back stronger the next time.

He barely even noticed a finger invading him, though he did notice what it was doing to him in conjunction with Tom's mouth. There was a pause then, enough to make Harry squirm, and the murmur, "Would my Harry like more?"

Harry didn't speak; he didn't need to. A second finger joined the first and Tom used his mouth for better things than talking, gradually increasing his pace and the aggressiveness of his actions. As before, Harry lost control, but unlike the last time, Tom didn't pamper him with hushed words and gentle hands. Tom finished him off, then crawled up his body to capture his mouth again, and Harry tasted himself for the first time.

Salty, slightly bitter, and unlike anything he had ever tasted before. He almost giggled, causing Tom to pull away with a patently fake look of annoyance. The only reason Harry could decipher it was Tom's nearness. "That was. . . ."

"Yes, it was. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, Harry," Tom whispered.

"Mm, no," he breathed. His mind was more than a little hazy. He knew that. But he also knew that Tom must be aching based on the hard length pressed against him. "Never. . . ."

"I know. It's your choice," Tom whispered back, then kissed him again, sharing the taste of what he'd worked for.

And then, some few minutes later when Harry had regained his equilibrium, Tom was the one pressed against the yielding surface of the bed as Harry once again tried to mimic what he had been shown.

«« :: »»

Harry went to breakfast feeling very relaxed and somewhat preoccupied. He was midway through his meal when he turned and said quietly, "If the DA did start up again, would you want to join?"

Blaise gave him a vaguely startled look, then replied, "Would they even allow that?"

"They? Granted, I wasn't the one who dreamed it up, but I was the one teaching. Besides, I told Ginny to talk to the original members to see who was still interested. If they can swallow me being in Slytherin, then why should it be that much more of a step to not worry over you?"

Blaise smiled, rather indulgently. "Harry, the first thing out of most people's mouths would be to ask if I'd put some sort of spell on you, or made you drink some potion to get you to talk to me in the first place."

"As Ginny put it, 'sod them.' I know I don't always make the best decisions, but honestly. If they don't trust me, they don't. Otherwise. . . . Besides, think about it. Ron is one of the people you would expect to be screaming bloody murder, and he's not. While he hasn't exactly been friendly, he also hasn't accused you of anything. If it meant the group got a hell of a lot smaller, so be it."

"You sound like the sorting hat."

Harry flashed a quick grin. "What, together we stand?"

Blaise shrugged.

"Personally, I'm not going to get bent if it ends up being a very small group. I got more than a little tired of people giving me grief about my methods. If the new guy turns out to be as bad as I've heard, though. . . ."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough."

"That reminds me. I have tutoring sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you probably won't see me tonight."

Blaise arched a brow. "All right."

"No idea how long they'll last," Harry said with a grimace. "Didn't want you to worry or anything." He piled the last of his eggs onto a slice of buttered toast and took a bite.

"Malfoy was made quidditch captain."

Harry glanced over quickly, using a hand to prevent his quasi-sandwich from falling apart mid-bite. After swallowing he said, "Bully for him. Even if I wasn't still banned, that would be a sure thing for me never making the team. Not that I would have bothered trying out."

"I think it's a shame. You might have made a good captain."

Harry shrugged. "I'll never know. I just like to fly. Not so sure being a captain is in me, you know?"

"What about . . . after?"

Harry set down his toast. "You mean if I should live so long? No, I don't think so. I have a hard time believing that a team would hire me on strictly for talent. I'd rather do something where my name couldn't get in the way."

"People have you pegged as becoming an auror."

"I already gave up that idea. It's ironic, actually, considering it was a Death Eater who suggested in the first place. But no. I get the feeling I'd either be expected to be some weird super auror, or pushed around by superiors who thought I needed to be taken down a few pegs for my swelled head."

Blaise tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Interesting. Well, we should get going."

Harry hefted his bag over one shoulder and pushed away from the table.

«« :: »»

"And so, class, you can see why it is very, very important to know these things while dealing with a troll," said Professor Flaxweld with a knowing smile.

Harry glanced at Ron, huffed slightly, then turned back to face the front of the class. A second later he could hear snickering, but ignored it and kept a straight face.

"Was there something you wanted to say, Mr Weasley?"

"Er, there aren't any simpler ways to deal with one, sir?"

Flaxweld flashed a mildly condescending smile and shook his head almost regretfully. "Now, now. I understand the need for a bit of derring do in a young man's life, but I'm afraid not. It takes a fully qualified wizard to handle one."

Harry bit his lip, hard, and glanced over at Ron again, trying desperately not to laugh. By the looks of it, Ron wasn't doing much better. Harry quickly brought up a hand to rub his face, not so incidentally hiding his nearly escaped smile, then looked down at his desk.

"Now, for homework, I'd like a three feet of parchment on mountain trolls!"

A collective groan ran through the class as they gathered up their belongings, and Harry, Ron, and Blaise escaped out the door as soon as they could. Hermione arrived a few moments later.

"What was so damn funny?" hissed Blaise.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, looked at Hermione, then at Blaise. "Not here," said Harry. "Actually, I was thinking of heading to the library to get this, er, terribly difficult assignment out of the way."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, then nodded. "An excellent idea, Harry."

Ron scowled, but also nodded.

"Come on," Harry said, tugging briefly on Blaise's sleeve.

«« :: »»

"So, do you think he'd get upset if we mentioned our method?" Harry asked with a smirk.

Ron sniggered.

"Harry, I thought you were going to take this assignment seriously," Hermione said.

"I am, but that's sort of the point. All three of us know another way, unorthodox as it is. I find it rather insulting that the man treats us like idiots. Don't you?"

Blaise cleared his throat softly, then quirked an eyebrow.

"Right, sorry. What we're referring to is a mountain troll we defeated first year." Harry went on to give a brief explanation, glad that they were sitting in one of the more secluded places in the library. "I'm beginning to think that Ginny is right. The DA ought to start up again," he concluded.

"And the people who can't handle your re-sort?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure what to think. I'd like to believe that people can see past all of this. But, too many people believed all that rot from fourth year. Certainly last year. I mean, come on. It would be practically incestuous for Hermione and I to have been a couple." Harry paused to wink at his friend. "And I know even though they joined that there were people in the DA who didn't want to trust me. If it's smaller, it's smaller."

Ron glanced at Blaise, then at Harry. "Those who decide not to would still have their galleons."

"So we use something else."

"Have you mentioned this to Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, a rather closed expression on her face.

Harry shook his head. "But then, I don't think he would mind. Do you? He knew about us. He even helped us." He had decided that he was going to treat Hermione as normally as possible and see what came of it.

"That is true," she said slowly, tapping one finger on the table.

Harry turned to Ron. "By the way, Malfoy was made captain."

Ron was caught between horror and pride. "So was I."

"That's brilliant!" Harry enthused, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you don't win this year I'll make you pay another forfeit."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," Harry said, nodding. "I can see it now. Yes, it would be horrible. Even worse than last time." He knew quite well that Ron would have a hard time imagining anything more horrible than being forced to do his homework. Except, perhaps, spiders. The slow drain of colour from his friend's face made him smile and arch a brow. "Do you think Ginny will stay on as seeker?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know."

They were both startled by the sound of something hitting the table. Harry looked over to see that Hermione had opened a rather thick tome. "I suppose we'd best get started on this assignment, then," he said, then reached into his bag for supplies.

«« :: »»

Harry knocked on the door and waited until he heard a muffled voice give permission to enter. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped in, then closed it quietly behind him and gave a nod to Snape.

"Your supplies, Potter," Snape said, indicating a bag resting on the floor next to the desk. "For the next two hours, do as you wish, so long as it does not involve disturbing me."

"Yes, sir." Harry stepped toward the desk long enough to get his new things, then took a seat at the nearest table. After taking out his new Potions textbook he settled in to read.

_:Do you actually plan on trying?:_

Harry blinked and flipped the page. _:Yes, of course. I have some hope that I might even be fairly marked this time around. Though that wasn't my choice, this is.:_

_:All right. I'll help if you like, though I admit that Potions is not my forte.:_

Harry suppressed a smile just in case Snape was looking. _:Why else have a Potions Master at your beck and call? Then again, since when do dark lords do their own brewing?:_

_:Two points, Harry. I would ask if the master portrait has said anything, but considering I've been there the past two nights. . . .:_

_:Somehow I doubt the snake was too embarrassed to speak. I am surprised, though. Blaise told me that Malfoy has been ranting about me since first year. I would have expected to have heard something by now.:_

_:I cannot decide if I should be concerned yet.:_

_:Tom, what happens to. . . .:_ Harry sighed quietly and flipped the page again, despite not having read anything.

_:To?:_

_:Take Malfoy. Let's say he wishes to join Voldemort. What if his two hulking goons don't?:_

_:I'm—ah, I see. Which is better? Certain exceptions, marks included, or the risk that they will be outcast?:_

_:Well, that's just it. Slytherin rules say you can't attack your housemates. Frankly, I don't even know if Crabbe and Goyle have any brains, if they have an actual opinion. Are they just faking it or are they really that thick?:_

_:Their fathers are not known for their intelligence, I admit.:_

_:So they could just up and say okay? Would veritaserum bring out anything of substance?:_

_:I'm beginning to understand the Hero Complex references.:_

_:That is so uncalled for.:_ Harry snorted.

_:Two points to me! Assuming they are lacking, veritaserum would make that plain, Harry. However, I made an agreement with you, so it is your choice how to handle the situation. Or, at least, it is up for discussion.:_

Harry sighed. _:Why does this persist in getting more complicated every time I turn around? Well, whatever. It isn't like that decision has been made anyway, right?:_

_:No, it hasn't. And if we find out that only a handful of students have such an intent, it may not be worth the effort. On a related note, since I will have to question each Death Eater, I may as well adjust their marks at that time rather than setting up something like you suggested. New followers I would manage as they were inducted.:_

_:I admit I wonder. So many people are convinced that all Slytherins are just slavering over the idea of hitching up. Some of them must have an opinion that isn't programmed into them. Blaise doesn't seem to. How many of them are just scared nigh well to death that their parents will force them or kill them if they try to refuse?:_

_:If we haven't heard anything by the time the week is over, we'll try something a little different.:_

_:Such as?:_

_:How would you feel about a Christmas party with Voldemort as the host?:_

Harry snickered softly. _:Now that's precious. Definitely points there. Five at least. Once word of that got out I can just imagine all the hushed conversations that would provoke._: Then he frowned. _:I wonder if I'll be dragged back to HQ this year.:_

_:Knowing Dumbledore? Very likely. I know, cooped up for weeks with no chance of getting away, or even outside. Harry, do you truly hate him?:_

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair. _:No, not exactly. I mean, he's only doing what he thinks is best. In the grander scheme of things, that's fine. I mean, which is better? A madman bent on obliterating most of the world's population, or a man bent on the death of two individuals for the greater good? It doesn't mean I like him. I hope you have one hell of a fortune, Tom, because I still haven't figured out how I'm supposed to find work as the new me.:_

Amusement filled him, then, _:Don't worry about it, Harry. Even now the Ministry is surprisingly lax as far as security goes. I'm sure we can work out minor details such as test scores for the both of us. Another option would be to do so in another country. At any rate, how did you think home schooled children managed?:_

_:No idea. The thought never occurred to me. Maybe I should brush up on my French.:_

_:You realize, of course, that a Slytherin Harry Potter defeating Voldemort might actually erase some of the stain on the house.:_

_:That hadn't crossed my mind either. That might be nice, actually. Though, I guess that depends on how many in Slytherin are, er, innocent. But do I really care at this point? This whole house system is really annoying. Even the sorting hat knows that to some extent.:_

_:Sorry?:_

_:Sorting hat. It's been going on about unity among the houses for two years now I think. I don't remember what it said this year, actually. I was a bit preoccupied at the time. Like any good system, it's become corrupt.:_

Harry felt something rather odd, then a slight sense of pride. _:One of these days we need to sit down and discuss your ideas on the downfall of man, Harry.:_

Harry grinned, then blanked his face and looked up when he heard, "Mr Potter, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, sir. Just, er, thoughts."

Snape stared at him, one brow arched, eyes unblinking. "I see." After a moment he dipped his quill in his inkstand and went back to writing.

_:How interesting.:_

_:I didn't think he'd be paying attention.:_

_:That reminds me. I told him to find you if there was something he needed to pass on to me urgently.:_

_:You should have told me last night.:_

_:Yes, I should have. I had other things on my mind, though.:_

_:Oh? Pray tell.:_

_:Stop fishing for compliments, Harry.:_

_:Do you . . . think I ought to raise the issue of the DA with Dumbledore?:_

_:Would official sanction mean anything? Or would this be a pretense to show that you need his opinion on matters? After all, as a sanctioned group, you may well be stuck with a staff overseer.:_

_:Oh, yes, that would be just lovely. Flaxweld would be an incredible addition to the Defense Association.:_

_:Not Severus?:_

_:No. Or do I mean yes?:_ Harry shook his head. _:Anyway, I know he's wanted the Defense position for years and Dumbledore has always refused. I suppose to either keep his cover safe or—well, I don't know, really. The only reason I could see Snape is because he's my head of house. I suppose people might believe he would be there to slow us down or terrorize us, but. . . . No, I'm not going to say anything. If the DA reforms, fine. I'm just going to work on the assumption that since Dumbledore didn't interfere before, he won't now. He might appreciate my initiative, or something.:_

When Tom did not reply Harry continued. _:I think it would be difficult either way. Flaxweld isn't necessarily much better than Lockhart was, and Snape doesn't need that kind of pressure.:_

_:All right. Would you be offended if I searched through my library for books you might like to reference for meetings?:_

_:Of course not. You said you would share anyway.:_ He paused as a thought occurred to him.

_:No, Harry, he has not. Though I am unsure as to whether you re-entering the Chamber would clue him in.:_

_:Is it inside or outside the wards?:_

_:Neither and both, I would expect. I will check when I go down there with Severus. But if it makes you feel any better, I will check before we go to see if the headmaster has placed any tracking or monitoring charms.:_

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _:Tom, is it possible to write in Parseltongue?:_

_:Now that's an odd question. Why?:_

_:I just feel uncomfortable. Exposed. I never thought I'd say that about being in Hogwarts, but I do. I want to be able to do some of the things you were talking about. You know, expanding my awareness? But, even though I know it's unlikely that anyone would be able to discover anything odd in my room, it still worries me.:_

_:And having books in Parseltongue wouldn't be odd? I understand, yes, that no one but you and I could realize what it was, but still. Perhaps it would make more sense to further this after I've seen the Chamber again, Harry. If it is safe, I can transport copies of suitable books from my library down there so you can access them freely. And, of course, I will help you through any of it you wish to employ.:_

Harry fidgeted and fussed with his hair for a moment. _:Okay. I still can't believe the old man put me into Potions. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was tryi—ha, never mind. He _is_ trying to get me killed, after all.:_

_:Now, Harry. Severus has been behaving himself. Even you have seen that.:_

Harry glanced up from beneath his fringe to look at Snape, then lowered his eyes quickly when he realized he was being watched again. _:I know, and I'm sorry. You probably threatened him, though.:_ He smiled when he felt Tom's amusement.

_:Only a little, Harry. How about we talk of something less grave, hmm? Tell me, did you enjoy our evening together last night?:_

Harry nearly groaned as the sensation of warmth flooded his cheeks. _:As if you need ask!:_

_:Ah, but you know I like to make you blush. Though, hearing you practically scream my name was incredibly satisfying, not to mention arousing.:_

_:I did no such thing.:_ Harry let his indignation flare across the link.

_:Oh, but you did. You have no idea how you look in those moments. Your face becomes quite flushed, Harry, for one thing, not to mention that it bleeds down your neck to your chest. And your hands—clutching at whatever is within reach as though searching for a lifeline. You are incredibly responsive.:_

Harry slowly lowered his head until his forehead was resting on his forgotten book.

_:You make such interesting mewling noises, did you know that? Seeing you arch beneath me wantonly sets me on fire, Harry.:_

"Merlin," he whispered, absently thinking that the book was nice and cool against his skin.

_:Is there something wrong, Harry?:_ Tom's tone was sickeningly innocent.

_:Bastard. You know exactly what's wrong.:_

_:I have no idea what you're talking about. But to get back to the subject, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. We need to be careful, though.:_

_:Hm?:_

_:It's easy to get carried away, and I don't want to break your trust.:_

_:And bringing to mind how you can make me feel is helping how? You're such a tease.:_

_:Well, I can't very well have you forgetting about me, now can I?:_

_:I don't think that's possible, Tom.:_

_:By the way, Umbridge has retired to a quiet cottage in the country, scared out of her mind that the part breeds are going to come after her if she so much as looks at one of them.:_

Harry sat up and blinked, then smiled. _:That's very good news. How did you find out?:_

_:Oh, various ways. Ears in the Ministry are always a plus. That and I had a few of my pets investigate. She doesn't like snakes, either, but they kept out of sight.:_

_:If I were the type I'd suggest entertaining her with illusions of centaurs, but I don't really want to be responsible if it drove her to madness.:_

_:You know, Harry, it's probably a very good thing I never had a chance to really talk to you as Voldemort. If I had been able to convince you. . . .:_

Harry smirked. _:You make it sound like I'm easy.:_

_:Never easy, Harry. Stubborn, willful, determined, yes.:_

«« :: »»

The remainder of the week went by more or less smoothly if you discounted such things as the Daily Prophet screaming out headlines regarding Harry's re-sorting. Thankfully, it was not Rita Skeeter doing the reporting, but that was only a small victory considering that the paper had once again managed to imply that Harry was leaning dangerously toward following in Voldemort's footsteps.

By the time Friday dinner rolled around Harry had once again resigned himself to being the object of much discussion and speculation, and by the time he made it to his room he was grateful beyond words to be out of everyone's sight. The previous evening's session with Snape had seen him far more concentrated on his homework rather than spending the entire time talking to Tom. It was almost a relief to be in there without anyone to pester him, either with distractions or with comments about his level of studiousness.

Having successfully completed his pending homework during those two hours, Harry had been thrilled when nothing was assigned the following day. Thus it was that he had an entire weekend to do nothing more than amuse himself.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	20. Amusements

* * *

**— 20: Amusements —**

* * *

"So, this is the famed Chamber of Secrets."

Tom nodded. "Yes," he said, then glanced at the corpse of the basilisk. "And that seems to be in surprisingly good condition. I hope you brought along sufficient tools and containers."

Severus snorted softly. "And if not, I am sure you can ask that house elf to gather more."

"Very true." Tom scanned the area, noticing as he did that not much had changed since his last visit. Why Salazar had wanted it to be so watery was beyond him, but it did make for some very interesting reflection patterns on the walls. It did, however, present a problem insofar as a library was concerned. Rather than attempting to change anything about the space itself, he walked to the foot of the statue and looked up.

Several contemplative minutes later Tom brought out his wand and set about creating a spiraling staircase which terminated in height at the level of the statue's mouth, then fashioned a walkway which led to it. Unfortunately, the completed construct had the effect of obscuring portions of the statue, so he spent some time turning it partially translucent.

Once Tom was satisfied he ascended the staircase and entered the mouth, carefully walking up the sloped tunnel until he reached a large open area littered with discarded skins. Those he banished to the Chamber floor. Even if Severus couldn't use them, they might be useful for clothing or accessories. The room itself was quite large—but then, so had the basilisk been—and it was dry, with smoothly curved stone walls and an uneven floor.

Various tunnels led off in several directions, most of them high enough for a well-grown man to walk without difficulty. Tom wasn't particularly thrilled by the idea of spending much time exploring, but did, as it would be foolish to set up a library in the present space if there was another better suited to such use.

He was investigating the third of the tunnels when Severus appeared behind him, the only signal of his arrival the slight swish of robes.

"Charming."

Tom looked over his shoulder to see yet another smirk on Severus's lips. "I thought so myself. I'm ashamed that it never once occurred to me as a youth to do more than attempt to use the basilisk. Voldemort would have been overcome with mirth at the idea of living in the famed Chamber, using it as his base of operations, all under the very feet of one of his greatest enemies."

Severus arched a brow. "I suppose this might account for, in part, why this place is called the Chamber of Secrets. I have finished gathering what I could salvage from the beast, and no, I shall not be mentioning my new acquisitions to Albus as he would no doubt become suspicious."

"Splendid." He thought the room would be perfect for a library. It wasn't damp, it was of a decent size, and the floor and walls were level. Tom suspected that Salazar had done quite a bit of work to fashion the extra rooms of the Chamber to suit some specific purpose. Indeed, he had probably used them as a retreat.

It had been pure chance that—Tom shook his head and snorted. Chance indeed. More like fate, one might presume.

"Tom?"

"It's nothing. Just thinking about how often fate must have been laughing at me." He ran a hand through his hair and gave his companion a frank look. "Severus, I am truly sorry for everything I put you through over the years. I hope that in time you can forgive me." Tom carefully didn't smile when Severus's face went blank again. Instead he said, "This seems suitable. I'll have to start copying books when I return home so I can bring them here. I imagine a warming charm would not go amiss, either. Somehow I cannot see trying to put a fireplace in here."

"Ah, no." Apparently Severus did not want to touch upon what had just been said, which became clear when he said, "Have you been able to interrogate any of the Death Eaters yet?"

Tom smiled and nodded. "Several, yes. After having crossed off those who have been dealt with from the list, I have begun with those remaining. They will stay on the list. It gives me something to do in between orders for more of those fruitless raids I've been sending people out on." He chuckled softly.

"They are not suspicious?"

He shrugged. "They seem slightly confused that I have yet to mention my next set of plans regarding Harry, but none of them are fools enough to speak of it."

"Has there been no word from the master portrait?"

"Not as yet. I suggested to Harry that if we did not hear anything by this weekend, then perhaps I should hasten things along by announcing some sort of gathering, such as during the holiday. And if it turns out that few are interested, I shall likely not bother recruiting any students."

"When do you plan on ending it all?"

Tom laughed softly. Severus had sounded almost melodramatic—accidental, he was certain. "I shall have to discuss that with Harry again. I had originally suggested that we take care of things at the end of this school year so that he would have his seventh year to see how the wizarding world treated him in the aftermath. But. . . ."

"As the Boy Who Lived must die. . . ."

"Yes. He may prefer to wait it out. Then again, he may be heartily tired of Dumbledore manipulating him into corners and not wish to prolong the agony."

Severus gave him an assessing look, then said, "I admit that I was slightly taken aback when Albus told me in no uncertain terms that Potter would be in NEWT Potions. I further admit that the brat was able to brew a potion quite perfectly in the practical class this week. How much of that was him, and how much of it was you?"

Tom chuckled and looked away for a moment. "Severus, Voldemort wanted you as one of his own for a very good reason. Ever bothered to look up my marks for OWLs and NEWTs? I assure you, I scraped by in Potions, more out of sheer determination rather than talent. I do not and never have loved them, though I did love what they could do for me, if you take my distinction. I expect that given his protection as a Slytherin, Harry was finally able to concentrate for once and not fear having his attempt sabotaged. He did, after all, get quite good marks on his OWL."

Severus snorted softly and glanced around the room. "Have you run any further tests?"

"Indeed, though nothing of any major scope. This time it was with one to be released and one to die. It also worked perfectly. I am feeling quite confident that all will go to plan at the correct time. Of course, I cannot experiment too often, lest I have no one to kill when the time comes."

"Have they questioned the disappearance of Bella and her lot?"

"No, but that's all right. I've sent some of them off on a search. I daresay I was quite intimidating at the time. Unfortunately, those dementors are still floating around so I cannot retrieve the bodies. As well, there are those ordered to be on the look out for likely new initiates."

"And those who are being pressured into it?"

"I shall obliviate them of the meeting and send them on their way." He paused, then added, "Not to mention do a little creative tinkering in the memories of the one who brought them in. It would hardly do to have those recruiters bringing in the same people over and over again, now would it?"

Severus gave him another of those assessing looks and said, "I do wonder how many purebloods will even be alive by the time you and the brat have finished causing complete chaos in the wizarding world."

Tom shrugged carelessly. "Does it matter? Perhaps with those who die gone there shall not be more set upon the idea of blood superiority. Voldemort is, as Harry has said, nothing more than a hypocrite." He tapped his chin thoughtfully and then smiled. "Maybe the papers would like that bit of information once he is gone, hm? Wouldn't it be delicious if everyone realized that their tormentor was in fact a half blood?"

"Perhaps. And it might simply make some believe it is why he was defeated."

Tom threw him a piercing look. "That may be so. But it would still point out, quite clearly, I believe, that purity of blood does not denote power. I would not put it past Dumbledore to release such information."

Severus abruptly conjured up a chair and sat. "I perceive a problem, Tom."

"Oh?"

"How are you to explain that the Death Eaters currently languishing in Azkaban do not die when the others do?"

Tom froze, then conjured his own chair and sat down. After a minute of silence he said, "That would call for one of two actions. Either I send in a contingent to break them out so I may modify their marks, or I use one that I have as the medium to kill each of them indirectly through the Dark Mark. Of course, it might be assumed that the wards of Azkaban would prevent such trifling actions. I suppose I could test the idea on Lucius. Which reminds me—have you any idea now Narcissa feels about her husband and son?"

Severus shrugged. "I think the woman would be grateful to simply live through all this. She is still young enough to bear more children should she wish. We are not close and never have been, so I cannot say with any surety what her reaction might be."

_:Tom? Can't you just possess Lucius and cause him to suicide? He is connected to you through the mark.:_

Tom blinked and shook his head. _:Harry, are you . . . peeking?:_

_:Sure am!:_ was the cheerful reply.

"I'll be damned," he said.

"Tom?"

Tom looked at Severus and smiled. "Seems Harry has learned a new trick. I could try, yes, though I'm not sure it would work the same way. It is one thing to possess you, Harry, or Nagini."

_:Yes, but they do bear the mark. They are connected to you until and unless you choose to release them. I should think it would be worth a try. Or, at the very least, an attempt to alter the mark through the connection. It isn't like they can escape you.:_

Tom furrowed his brow in contemplation, rubbing his chin as he stared at the floor. The sound of a throat being cleared brought his head up again. "Sorry. Would you mind if Harry joined us, Severus?"

"No," Severus sighed.

Tom nodded. "Then if you aren't busy, Harry. . . ."

Thirty seconds later Harry popped into the room with Dobby, who just as quickly popped back out. "Nice place. A library?"

"Yes, I think so. Now, would you care to repeat your suggestion?"

Harry sank down to the floor and smiled. "Maybe it never occurred to you before because there was only one person who, er, left Voldemort's service, and you always knew where he was. However, given that it would be a great deal of trouble to physically go after the people in Azkaban, I don't see why you shouldn't attempt to either possess Lucius as a test case, or at the least use that binding connection. Consider that you used your connection to me in order to manipulate me. And, I really don't think a soul bond can explain your power to possess people, namely me. Well, unless you also want to tell me that you've managed to soul bond to Nagini." Harry smirked and continued, "So, isn't it reasonable to at least attempt to do the same with the mark? Try to alter it from a distance, as though you were following a thread of magic you yourself put in place?"

Tom kept his face composed as he noticed in his peripheral vision that Severus was giving Harry a look that was akin to carefully concealed respect. "What do you think, Severus?"

"It is . . . an interesting way of looking at things," Severus said smoothly. "There may be merit in the idea."

Tom nodded and looked at Harry. "And just when did you learn how to peek?"

Harry flashed him an innocent smile and shrugged. "It's along the same lines, Tom. There's a connection. We use it to initiate dreams, right? We use it to speak to each other. So I thought I'd try to just imagine that I could see through your eyes and it worked. I have no idea how _you_ do it, but. . . ."

"Ten points, Harry. You were bored, weren't you."

"Well, yes," admitted Harry with a sheepish grin. "I finished all my work Thursday, and that other book. I, er—well, I think it's worth a try, anyway. Maybe it's silly, but if you think of the connection as a tangible thing, you should be able to follow it, right? I mean, really, who would have thought magic was possible? But you see it happen, and you know it's real, so you believe. Just like when I said I was able to cast that Patronus, because I'd already seen myself do it." He laughed softly. "To this day, I'm not even sure what memory I used, but it worked. So why not this?"

Tom tilted his head to the side and considered. The construction of the room, drawing Harry into it, was largely a matter of concentration and will in his opinion. Much like the original dreams had been, really. But was Harry's view so odd? He could imagine an invisible thread connecting him to every person who bore the Dark Mark, so it stood to reason that knowing the connection existed meant he might be able to manipulate those in Azkaban.

"What Patronus, Potter?"

Tom snapped back to attention to see Harry giving Severus a guarded look. After a pause Harry said, "The one that saved two lives, mine and Sirius's, from a mass dementor attack, sir."

Severus's expression blanked out, though Tom got the impression it was not exactly shock which prompted it. "I see. However, you speak as though you were in two places at once. Perhaps . . . with the aid of your friend's time turner?"

Harry bit his lip and glanced at Tom. _:He never did like Sirius.:_

_:I can always obliviate him, Harry.:_

Harry gave Severus an opaque look. "Yes, that would be correct, sir."

Severus shook his head slowly and muttered something under his breath that Tom couldn't catch.

"Tom? The warding here?" Harry asked.

"Within from what I can tell."

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't think so. Granted, if Dumbledore tried to place a tracking charm on you he might become confused at his inability to figure out where you were."

Harry rubbed his neck and sighed. "Is that something I can learn to check for myself and remove?"

"Of course, Harry. Would you like me to cast one on you now so that you can detect and remove it?"

"Okay, sure."

Tom revealed his wand and quickly cast a tracking charm on Harry that would give him periodic updates as to his location, then watched as Harry's eyes went wide and his frame shuddered.

"That's disgusting," Harry whispered.

"Harry?" he asked in confusion.

"This . . . feeling. It's disgusting. It's like someone is staring at me unblinkingly. If this doesn't come off soon—I think it would drive me insane after a while."

Tom blinked, as did Severus. "That may make teaching you how to detect them useless, but. . . ." Several minutes later Harry had successfully managed both spells, much to his very obvious relief. "Harry, would you mind if Severus also cast one? I would like to know if your reaction has anything to do with our bond or not."

Harry grimaced and hunched over slightly, but nodded. "All right."

A minute later—the reaction was the same—Harry said, "I'm almost sorry I dragged us off topic. I think you need to keep an eye on me, Tom, because if he pulls that on me you may have to stop me from hexing his beard to a very inconvenient location."

Tom let out a snort of laughter and nodded. "As you wish. Now, back to more practical subjects. I will have Dobby set this room up for us with books for you to read over the next few days. And as for the other matter, I will try to _see_ things your way and attempt to modify Lucius's Dark Mark as well. The worst case scenario is that I will fail and have to arrange for another break-in to Azkaban to retrieve everyone."

"I agree that it would look highly suspicious if those in Azkaban were not affected," Harry said, inclining his head at Severus.

"Harry, if I do have to try killing him, I will warn you. Of course, once we get lessons started, a warning should suffice." He didn't outright state that Harry had experienced anything. Severus could infer what he wished from his ambiguity.

"That would be nice, thank you. Though, I almost wonder how come Malfoy hasn't managed to buy his way out of Azkaban. I thought Fudge adored him." Harry snorted, then said, "Sorry, adored his money. I wonder how he feels now, sitting in Azkaban, partially because of me. I wonder how he feels having heard that Voldemort is a half blood. Does he want to kill you himself? Take over? Suicide because he was duped?"

Tom cocked his head and said, "What if you were in his place? What do you think you would feel?"

Harry bit his lip and stared at the wall for a while. "Well, I don't know much about purebloods, all told, but I can imagine based on what I've seen. I think I would be indescribably angry, ashamed, and wanting some kind of revenge. I think pride would stand in the way of suicide. Voldemort made a total fool out of him for years and he only now knows it. Well, if he actually believed what I said. Bella did, so I suppose he might."

No one said anything for a minute. Then Harry spoke. "Of course, were you to be unable to change the mark, but were able to possess him, I would expect you to whisper in his ear, so to speak, about how disappointed Voldemort would be that a loyal and trusted servant of his would even consider such a vile statement. It would be . . . beneath him, unworthy of Voldemort's favor. Depending on how strong Malfoy is, it might be fairly easy to undermine him to the point that he took his own life without much prompting."

Harry didn't appear to notice the look Severus was giving him, and finished off by saying, "And now I'm starting to feel dirty again."

"Then we'll change the subject. For example, since you've finished those two books, I'll simply have to pick out some more for you." Tom was pleased to see that Harry's expression went from mildly nauseous to smiling.

"Thank you," he said simply, then, "Do you mind if I go? I don't want to interrupt further. I just didn't want to not say what came to mind, you know?"

"Of course, Harry. I may stop in later if that's all right."

Harry smiled and nodded, then said, "Good evening, professor," as Dobby popped into the room. Harry rose, took Dobby's hand, and disappeared.

"Well, that is certainly food for thought," Tom said.

"Indeed. What did he mean by dirty?"

Tom gave Severus an appraising look. "His morals, or conscience, whichever. While Harry is very much able to look at things dispassionately, that doesn't mean he necessarily likes expediency. I can't say that I much care for it myself of late, but this mess must be cleared up. He knows that, so he gives voice to his ideas."

Severus looked thoughtful for several moments, nodded, then said, "What do you suppose the odds would be that someone in the Ministry, specifically the Department of Mysteries, would pass on to Albus the prophecy given to you?"

"I'm not sure. I was never able to mark an Unspeakable. However, should he find out about it, I tend to think that Dumbledore would do exactly what the sorting hat outlined. In fact, I would not be at all surprised if Harry's guard was allowed to become lax, simply in the hopes that he would end up in Voldemort's clutches and killed." He paused, then continued, "But only after he was very, very sure that Harry was utterly against Voldemort. It is true that the revelation would show that it was I to whom the prophecy was spoken, so he might not wish to go that route, believing that I might be able to sway Harry to my cause if given the chance."

Severus remained thoughtful looking, finally saying, "Albus has been a bit . . . lax, you might say, as to revealing the extent to which Potter is connected to you. However, were he to get his hands on this third prophecy, he would no doubt wonder if Potter had also witnessed it. Being unable to determine if it would have been accompanied by torture, though, if he truly wished to know, he would possibly employ veritaserum to find out, then obliviate the boy when he was done. Furthermore, if he thought there was the least chance that Potter would side with you because of said prophecy, he might go so far as to ensure that others which Potter is close to were inadvertently in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Tom frowned. "How often, to your knowledge, has Dumbledore called Harry to his office over the years?"

Severus rubbed his chin and replied, "Not often. His second year, because of the basilisk attacks. Twice his fifth year, but those were related to the attack on Weasley and the death of the mutt. Aside from that I am unsure. I would suggest the removal of that memory into a pensieve, but that would not in any way help Potter concerning all his other memories since his birthday this year. Of course, were Albus to take such drastic measures as to use veritaserum, he would have to obliviate more than its use."

Tom gave Severus a meaningful look. "It may not matter. The fact that you were more or less forced to out yourself as a spy means that Harry is the only inside source that I know of. Naturally, Voldemort has been very careful to occlude that connection while being creative, so Harry hasn't seen anything. Right?"

Severus chuckled softly. "As you say. Why, I believe I may receive a rather vague message about that shortly so that I can pass it along to Albus. Would that suit?"

"Admirably, and thank you."

«« :: »»

Tom was becoming very fond of Harry, and it was certainly no chore to spend time looking at the young man. Of course, devouring his flesh was even better, and while it could not be said that a relationship could not be predicated on sexual activities, it was probably not a wise choice here. Thus, the need for conversation and other such oddities.

"Why so pensive?" he asked, taking a seat at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Just wondering about my friends. I chose Slytherin because I was tired of the lies. I wanted to know how true they were. You know that. And Ron stayed, though I don't know about Hermione."

"And you want to take things a step further."

Harry sighed and fiddled with his hair. Tom thought it was a rather endearing unconscious habit. "Yes, but when? And what happens if Ron, or anyone else for that matter, freaks out?"

"Well, both those things depend. As to the first, I must point out that we can end this at any time after I have managed to change all the Dark Marks. We are not limited by that, but rather given some freedom once it is complete. The decision remains with you as to whether you would prefer to remain at Hogwarts until you complete your formal education or not."

Harry glanced up and flashed him a quick smile. "We're limited by how creative we can be in thinking up wild goose chases for the Death Eaters."

Tom chuckled and nodded. "Yes, true. The point is, if you wish to stay here through your NEWTs, I won't begrudge you that. So, you can see, timing is fairly fluid. However, I can also understand why you might be feeling rather impatient at having to skulk around in the shadows."

"And the second?"

"The first thing that comes to mind is to tell Ron first, possibly about the fact that Harry Potter will very likely die, with me in attendance. After all, you can interpret the original prophecy to mean one of two things—one is that we'll both die, and one is that the only people who can kill either of us is us. At any rate, if telling Ron worked out well, then perhaps you could choose another. If not, then I would be on hand to obliviate your friend."

Harry flopped back and folded an arm beneath his head. "Well, it would have to be you. It isn't as though I have any clue how to obliviate someone."

"Harry, there is one other thing I would mention. I would suggest that you hold off on any plans for revelations until you have spent some time with me on Occlumency and Legilimency."

"That's reasonable." Harry lifted his head for a moment to look at him, asking, "Er, Tom, just how does the wizarding world regard homosexuality?"

"Not much differently than muggles, I suppose. Though, with a much smaller population, one must be able to produce heirs and keep our kind going." Tom arched a brow and smirked. "However, that's never stopped people from disregarding the custom of arranged marriages, nor has it stopped anyone from having lovers on the side. Then again, most people aren't soul bonded. In that respect it isn't much of an issue. Unlike those brought up in the bosom of wizarding culture, muggles, and even muggleborns, are more likely to be strongly influenced by religion."

A thoughtful look crossed Harry's face, and Tom had a very good idea that he was considering whether or not his female friend would have that as a reason to object to him. Still, there would always be people within the wizarding world itself that objected, just as there would be those that did not.

Harry gave another sigh. "Then I guess that'll just be another in a series of revelations, right?"

"Look on the brighter side of things, Harry," Tom stressed. "You knew this wasn't going to be easy, and you knew that there was a chance you would have to walk away from everyone. It is still possible that you will walk away with at least one of them, and perhaps more. I know that you're cynical, Harry, but it's almost funny that you seem to be more cynical than I am."

Harry made a face, still staring at the canopy, then blinked. _"Is there anything to report?"_ he hissed.

Tom leaned forward and tilted his head to look up, seeing nothing but the underside of the canopy. He could, however, hear the hissed response. _"Nothing as of yet, master. Nothing of substance. But we think the Malfoy spawn may be planning something."_

_"You are unable to tell what, though."_

_"That is correct, master. He speaks to himself quite a bit, like the headmaster does, though his voice is much softer. It is very difficult to hear what he says."_

_"Have any of you overheard students talking about me specifically?"_ Harry hissed.

_"Of course, master. However, most of them either bemoan the fact that you are in Slytherin, that they dare not approach you, or that you are off limits to your housemates."_

_"Do you think I'm in any danger?"_

_"No, master. At least, not from your housemates. They seem to be sure that Snape takes direction from the Dark Lord, despite evidence to the contrary."_

Harry raised his head again to ask, "Are they all this willfully blind, or is Snape just that good?"

Tom snorted softly. "I think many of them are simply confused. It's often easier to believe the surface, don't you think? Still, that doesn't mean those same people are completely delusional. Denial is an odd thing."

"At any rate, I guess I should be keeping a close eye out."

"I concur," he said, then, "Is that room suitable for you?"

"Very. I can't wait to see what you put in there for me to read."

"There are several other rooms as well. One of those can be used for lessons. We simply need to decide on when."

Harry sat up and nodded. "I'm tired. Will you stay with me?"

"Of course."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	21. Alpha

* * *

**— 21: Alpha —**

* * *

Breakfast was subdued, but that was normal. More than half the people there were less than awake. Blaise sat at his side and first years across from them, which was also normal. However, the first oddity that Harry noticed was the covert glances he was getting from Snape, who gave off the distinct impression that he was staring at some mysterious puzzle he had not quite yet figured out. Whether that made Harry feel uncomfortable was not something he planned on deciding just yet.

Things progressed as they were wont to do, and Harry concentrated more on the taste of his food than anything else. He was well aware by now that Dobby had taken it upon himself to be sure that nothing tainted found its way to his master's table, so Harry wasn't particularly concerned about ending up either as the butt of an embarrassing joke or in the hospital wing.

Harry was, in fact, a little torn about the whole thing with Blaise. He was happy that he had what looked to be a friend in Slytherin, but that also meant he could not disappear for hours at a time (any more than he could have in Gryffindor) to lounge in one of the Chamber rooms and read esoteric works. Of course, he wasn't entirely certain what it was that he wished to learn. Better awareness would be nice, true.

He was pulled from his musing by the sound of owls swooping into the hall to deliver the morning post, giving the aerial display a few moments of his time before noticing that Hedwig was not among them, then going back to his food. It took Blaise yanking on his arm to make Harry aware of the variety of gasps coming from the other tables and the numerous stares in his direction.

"What the hell is going on now?" he whispered.

"I think it has something to do with the Daily Prophet."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Judging from the reactions, it must be something about me." He scanned the Gryffindor table for Ron and spotted him quickly; his friend had a rather dark look on his face.

"Then you should know that Malfoy has been sending slightly poisonous smirks up the table," whispered Blaise.

"Has he now," Harry replied with an arch of his brow. "Whyever does that not surprise me?"

Ron then did something very odd. After tearing the front page off the copy of the paper he was holding and folding it several times, he looked up at Harry and pointed at it with his wand, a rather strange expression on his face.

Harry dropped his wand into his hand and quietly summoned the sheet to him, and, after holstering his wand, unfolded it and checked the main headline.

**_Boy Who Lived Gay?_**

_Sources within Hogwarts report that Harry Potter has secretly been  
carrying on with a fellow Slytherin student, Blaise Zabini. . . ._

"Bloody hell."

Harry disposed of the paper with a deft cast of Incendio and looked at Blaise steadily. "Well, I guess we're the last to know. I certainly wasn't aware that we were carrying on a torrid affair. Tell me, am I any good?"

Blaise smirked before saying, "I wonder who they got to impersonate us for that photograph."

Harry shrugged. "Don't care. But I bet Malfoy is behind this."

Blaise rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yes, and how many galleons would you have won?"

Harry looked away as a shadow fell over their portion of the table to see Snape looming. "Sir," he said politely.

"Is it too much trouble to ask that you stop appearing on the front page of the Daily Prophet every week, Potter?"

"I would if it was up to me, sir."

Snape eyed him for a moment, then stalked off, robes billowing out behind him.

"Look, let's just go. I'm sure Ron is dying to ask me about this." When Blaise nodded Harry rose, staring over at the Gryffindor table again to catch Ron's eye and jerk his head toward the doors.

«« :: »»

"No, Ron," Harry said patiently, "Blaise and I are not seeing each other. I suspect this is Malfoy's way of trying to embarrass me since he isn't supposed to come at me openly." Harry skipped another rock across the surface of the lake and sighed. _:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry.:_

_:Seen today's Daily Prophet?:_ Ron's staring made him turn his head. "Yes?"

"Are you even gay?"

Harry blinked and crouched down to gather more flat stones. "Are you asking because you suspect I might actually be?"

"Er. . . ."

Harry sank down to the ground and launched another rock. "I'll ask something easier, then. How did the others react to the story?"

Ron flopped onto the grass and shot him a look. "Mixed. Some good, some bad, some immediately assuming that Blaise here slipped you a potion or used a spell. The usual."

Blaise snickered and plucked a few blades of grass. "I'm as straight as they come. Not to say Harry's a bad looking bloke, but. . . ."

"Well, either someone got their hands on polyjuice potion or knows how to cast advanced glamour charms," Harry said, flipping one of the rocks around absently in his hand.

_:Malfoy's opening move?:_ Tom asked.

_:I suppose so. I hope he isn't too terribly disappointed when I fail to throw a temper tantrum over this.:_ He looked at Ron and said, "Does the idea bother you? That I might be gay?"

Ron gaped for a moment, then said, "No, actually, I was more worried that you'd be upset for being outed, or just plain pissed off that someone did this to try to hurt you."

Harry grinned, then looked at Blaise. "Are we still friends?"

"Of course we are. I told you, don't worry about me. Besides, you never know. This might up my attraction value with the ladies, trying to convert me and all." Blaise waggled his brows in a ludicrous manner, making both Harry and Ron snicker.

"Hermione? Ginny?"

Ron shrugged a shoulder and gave him a sidelong look. "I think Ginny is more upset that she never stood a chance. Hermione, though, looked sorta angry."

Harry muttered and ruffled his hair. "Angry I can accept, but it would be nice to know why."

"Harry!" All of them turned to look and saw Ginny jogging in their direction, Hermione following at a much more sedate pace. On arrival, Ginny flopped down beside Ron and flashed a somewhat nervous smile. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry grinned and shrugged, saying, "It could have been worse. It might have been Filch in that picture. Don't worry about it. It's just someone trying to get me angry or cause me trouble."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. Besides, Blaise thinks it's hilarious. We're all dying to know who actually posed as us."

She eyed him carefully as Hermione finally approached and took a seat primly. "Well, all right. I spoke to other members of the DA, Harry. I'm sorry, but some of them are really uncomfortable with you being re-sorted."

Harry shrugged again. "It's not like I didn't expect that. Does anyone still want to continue?"

"Only a few people do. Luna,"—Hermione gave an almost unheard snort—"Neville. . . . Me, of course."

Harry blinked slowly. "I see."

_:The wizarding world is fickle, Harry, but I think we already covered that subject. If I recall, you shouted at me.:_

_:Shut up.:_

_:Hm, do I get to take points for that kind of response?:_

Harry could clearly feel Tom's amusement, and was quite glad his rejoinder had been taken in the spirit in which it was meant. _:Perhaps, but I'm sure you can find better ways to keep me from saying such things.:_

_:Oooo, Harry. You just earned yourself five more points. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to provoke me.:_

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked.

"I'm fine. I just didn't realize it was that bad." He turned his head and said, "Hermione?"

"Of course, Harry. I'd have to be an idiot to stop now. After all, it was my idea. I'm more interested in knowing how you're reacting to that article." Her expression was the same cool blank it had been since the incident caused by his revelation of his reasons for speaking to the sorting hat.

He adopted a thoughtful expression. _:Me? Provoke you? How dare you accuse me of such a thing, Tom. I do believe I feel quite wounded. After all, was it not you who tempted me the last time around?:_ After a moment Harry looked up and smiled weakly. "I'm fine. As I said earlier, it's just another in a long line of attempts to give me grief."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "Personally, I think it's ridiculous."

"Er, why?" Harry got the distinct impression that he wasn't going to like whatever it was she might say.

"It just is. Even if it was true, which I doubt, anyone with any sense should know that you'll do the right thing."

Harry held back a sigh. "Could you explain further?"

"Certainly. I'm going to assume that you have not read as widely as I have, but still, I don't think this would come as much of a shock. The wizarding community is not overlarge," she explained patiently, "and people take steps to ensure that as a community we continue to exist, preferably to grow. Much as I hate some of the customs of purebloods, I can say they have reasons for some of them, such as arranged marriages. It is the responsibility of every magical person to reproduce. Survival of the species, if you will. Excessive inbreeding is dangerous."

She paused and looked at him closely, probably to make sure he was paying due attention. "When I say you would do the right thing, I mean that you, like Ron, myself, Ginny, and everyone else, would marry, have children, and so on, especially since you are one of the more powerful wizards. That you could cast a fully corporeal Patronus at thirteen is more than indicative of that fact. I expect that by the time you come of age, you'll have more offers than you know what to do with."

_:Is she out of her mind?:_

_:I'm afraid not. I'm quite sure a very large portion of the British wizarding community would agree with her. They expect you, their hero, to vanquish the evil fellow that's been terrorizing them all, then find a nice witch to settle down with and have multiple babies to pass on your oh so attractive genes, magical and otherwise.:_

_:I wonder how she feels about soul bonds.:_

_:That's assuming she could bring herself to believe in them. Then again, shove the right book in front of her face and she might. However, that probably wouldn't change her mind, Harry. Not for you, at any rate. You're too important to the wizarding world.:_

_:But what about _my_ happiness?:_

_:Haven't you heard? Your happiness comes when you win the big fight. After that, it's all icing.:_

"Harry?"

He looked up to see Hermione watching him. "Interesting. And are any of you going to object if Blaise joins our merry band of fake galleon toting defense associates?"

Ron spoke first. "I see no reason to object."

Hermione gave Ron a slightly startled look and offered, "If you trust him, Harry, then fine."

"I'm good," said Ginny.

"Wonderful. I suppose that leaves finding out how Luna and Neville will feel about this."

"I'll take care of it, Harry," Ginny said.

"Thanks. But first, do you still want to join?" he asked Blaise.

"Sure, Harry. I can even owl my parents for some books about defense you probably won't be able to find in the library here."

"Great!" And of course, it might help to cover up other things Harry might be introducing into the now much smaller DA.

"I'll go take care of that now, actually. See you later on, all right?"

"Sure, Blaise, and thank you."

"And I think it's time you and I got to play chess, Harry," Ron stated.

"In that case, I'll go talk to the others," Ginny said as she stood and brushed herself off. Hermione rose as well, no doubt of a mind to go find something new to learn.

Harry nodded at everyone, then looked to Ron. "Where?"

"I dunno. Could sit in one of the courtyards, or use an empty classroom. Merlin knows there are more of those around than anyone knows what to do with."

«« :: »»

"Ron?"

His friend looked up from the board and raised his brows.

"Do you agree with Hermione? About what people would expect of me once Voldemort was gone?"

"Let me think about that for a minute," Ron replied evasively, then went back to studying the board. It wasn't until after he made his move that he gave an answer. "Harry, I think that what Hermione said is, er, would be a common opinion. I think the moment you come out of this you'll be bombarded with offers and hounded until you settle down and crank out more babies than mum and dad did."

Harry frowned and didn't even bother to ponder his next move. "All right. What do _you_ think?"

"I think if you manage to defeat what's-his-face that you can do whatever you bloody well please. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if you found a way to hide in plain sight."

Harry blinked, and gaped.

_:I definitely like that young man.:_

"I told you, Harry, I'm here for you. You do what makes you happy, and I'm good with that. I don't care if you think Snape is sex walking, though I admit I might go blind at the mere thought."

Harry choked and accidentally knocked over half the pieces on the board.

"Now look what you've done. We'll just have to start over," Ron admonished with a scowl as he began to reset the pieces to their starting positions.

_:Harry, calm down.:_

Harry stared at his friend with wide eyes, finally saying, "What on earth did I do to deserve a friend as loyal as you?"

"Shut up. I'm mad at you for ruining our game," Ron said haughtily.

«« :: »»

_:You know, I think maybe I'm right in wanting to tell him.:_

_:But. . . .:_

_:Not Hermione. And I don't say that because of your opinion, Tom. Maybe I'm being unkind, but she seems to believe what she was saying. Like it somehow is my duty to marry some insipid female simply to satisfy the expectations of others. I mean, come on. Shouldn't it be more than enough to fulfill my supposed destiny? Shouldn't it end there? When was my life supposed to become my own?:_

_:As I've said, Harry, mob mentality. And, in a way, as you've said. After all, people don't like having to acknowledge a savior. I think they would come to believe they owned you in some odd fashion.:_

Harry snorted. _:Drove me mad is more like it.:_

_:Is there anyone else you might wish to tell?:_

Harry flopped back and stared at the snake painting. _:I'm not so sure about Ginny, unfortunately. In some respects I think she deserves to know, but on the other hand I can't help but think that with Harry Potter and Voldemort dead she would be able to get past any lingering issues. Remus, perhaps. I don't know.:_

_:Well, you may or may not like this, but werewolves do have certain issues, Harry. And yes, it is almost entirely based on the wolf. If you chose not to tell him, you would have to avoid him entirely, and Ron would have to be extremely careful as well.:_

_:What, scent?:_

_:Precisely. And, it is entirely possible that Remus's wolf considers you one of his pack. If you think about it, Sirius going to Azkaban must have done a serious number on his psyche. Remus had good reason to suspect his friend guilty, despite knowing it could not be the truth. It is a difficult place, sitting on the fence between lies and truth.:_

_:I can understand that. I'm going to make the assumption that Dumbledore never explained the prophecy to any of them, but instead only hinted at it.:_

_:Is that wise? Though, Severus did not know, I am sure of it.:_

_:And he was a spy. It makes me want to speak with the sorting hat again, but I don't see how that's possible without alerting Dumbledore. The portraits there are loyal to him, of necessity.:_

_:Harry, have you written to Remus yet? You did tell him you would.:_

Harry groaned softly. _:It has been a week. I should do that now. But, Tom? Can you teach me soon how to do the Protean Charm by myself?:_

_:Of course, Harry. I would be delighted.:_

Harry nodded and pulled himself up, swinging his legs off the bed so he could rise and head for his desk. After taking a seat there, he began a letter to his "uncle."

_Dear Remus,_

_I've just realized it's been a week, so I thought now would be a good time  
to write to you and let you know how things have been going. I think it  
goes without saying that it hasn't been wine and roses. According to  
Ginny, only a couple of the original members of the DA are able to  
accept my re-sort, though most everyone has left me alone, strangely  
enough. I'm not sure if they're scared of me or just confused._

_At any rate, there is one person in Slytherin who seems like a very nice  
person and that's Blaise Zabini. From what I can tell his family has  
always been neutral. I've asked him to join me in defense practice along  
with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Though, I'm not sure yet  
how Neville and Luna will take his inclusion. You know how hard it can  
be for people to see beyond houses._

_I have to say that there are a number of things I wish I could ask you. I  
will refrain from doing so in letters, though, as I realize that even owl  
post isn't sacrosanct._

_I suppose I can write more than, "I'm fine," eh?_

_I have been diligently applying myself to my studies. I admit, that is partly  
due to having only one person within the dungeons I dare even be  
anything like myself around, partly due to not having Ron always trying  
to lure me into frivolous activities (no matter how much I might enjoy  
them), and partly due to not being nagged so often by Hermione._

_I admit, freely, that she tends to make me feel quite rebellious. The more  
she pushes, the more likely it is that I want to do the opposite just to be  
spiteful. Does that make me a bad person? However, I can simply get on  
with it down here, and Blaise has been quite a help. He's fairly quiet and  
studious, without being pushy. It's relaxing._

_But please don't take any of that to mean that I disdain Ron and  
Hermione, because I don't. I miss being able to spend time with them so  
freely. I'm also somewhat upset that I somehow ended up in Potions  
classes, but there is a good side to being in Slytherin. Being one of them  
means they can't come after me. House rule. I can actually be in Potions  
class now and not fear being pranked by one of them._

_Still, no longer being on a quidditch team is a bit disheartening. I can't  
imagine playing against Gryffindor anyway, so I suppose it's all right.  
Speaking of news, I'm sure you've seen that stupid Daily Prophet article  
by now. I can assure you, Blaise and I are nothing more than friends. He  
even thinks it's funny, the silly git. I think I know who is behind it, though  
I've no idea how they managed it. I assume polyjuice or some sort of   
glamours._

_At any rate, I'm not so starved that I'd throw myself at the first person to  
give me a wink and a nudge._

_Yes, I have been eating properly. I've also been sleeping well. I'm not  
quite sure what's going on, but I haven't been having nightmares, or . . .  
other issues. I must say it's a relief. Maybe, in a very bizarre way, this  
exile from my usual haunts has allowed me to find some peace. At the  
moment I don't care why. I'm simply grateful for the change of pace._

_Lessons are fine. All of them. Though, I do wish I had had enough sense  
back in the day to cast aside the idea of Divination and had opted for  
something a bit more interesting as an elective. Then again, there's  
nothing saying I can't take up Arithmancy or Ancient Runes as a hobby,  
right? Did you take those classes, and did you enjoy them?_

_I guess that's it for the moment. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Love,  
Harry_

_:I think that was a very nice letter. I would hope that Remus will be satisfied, and perhaps even get your subtle hint.:_

_:Mm. We'll see, right?:_ Harry, on seeing that the ink had dried, folded the letter and hunted out an envelope to place it in, then addressed the front. _:I've changed my mind, by the way.:_

_:Oh?:_

_:I do not think Coran.:_

_:Why not?:_

_:Doesn't suit very well with Ash.:_

_:What did you have in mind, then?:_

_:Something equally odd, and equally metaphoric. I was thinking about using Haze instead.:_

_:You sound like a child of the sixties or seventies.:_

Harry laughed softly. _:I didn't say Moonbeam, Tom, and I hadn't planned on taking up drugs or wearing beads in my hair.:_

_:Delightful. Actually, I rather like it. Of course, you could always consider Ember.:_

_:No, no, no. With Ash that sounds like we're a fire that's nearly burnt out.:_

_:Or it could be that we're sneaky, and could be set ablaze at any moment.:_

_:There's always a flip side, right?:_

_:Of course.:_

«« :: »»

The following day brought about the news that both Neville and Luna were fine with the idea of Blaise being included, which took one weight off Harry's shoulders. They simply needed to decide on what to use as a signal piece. Harry wasn't especially keen on using another galleon, and, as he did not feel that they needed to be ever so sneaky in their endeavors, he thought perhaps a piece of jewelry might serve just as well. That is, assuming he could get the others to agree.

In the end he decided on a simple pendant to be worn under clothing. The only thing about it that concerned him was the back, which should be smooth and unadorned. Whatever ended up on the front of any of them wasn't something he cared about.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	22. Lessons

* * *

**— 22: Lessons —**

* * *

"Mr Potter."

"Yes, sir?" Harry answered politely, noticing that Snape looked as though he was trying to force back a sneer.

"You might wish to remember that your belongings are not to be left in my classroom as though it is your personal storage area. Failure to remember this will result in unpleasantness. Are we clear on this point?" Snape thrust forward several sheets of parchment, snatching his hand back the moment Harry took hold of them.

"Yes, sir." Harry watched as Snape swept off, then glanced down at the top sheet of parchment. The writing was characteristic of his own, which confused him considerably until he realized it was from an essay he had written the previous year. Then he was even more confused over why the man would even have a copy still until he began to take note of the scarlet lines which bled across it in scathing remarks. One of them seemed to be much more recent.

_:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry. What is it?:_

_:Look through my eyes. Does this make any sense to you?:_ Harry kept his focus on the new comment and waited.

_:Yes, it does. Severus apparently has something he wishes to talk about with me. If there is no reason for me to keep the conversation private, I will share with you once I have had a chance to talk to him.:_

_:All right. Whatever it is I guess he doesn't want to wait until Tuesday evening. That, or he does not wish to talk to you through me directly. I suppose I cannot blame him as we aren't on the best of terms.:_

After a slight pause Tom sent, _:That is true. I do think he was quite pleased at what he was able to gather from the corpse of the basilisk, though.:_

Harry furrowed his brow, then realized he was still standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot. Shaking his head slightly he continued on toward the library, stuffing the parchments into his bag. _:I'm sure you had good reason to bring that up, but I think it may take me a while to figure it out.:_

_:I like that about you, Harry.:_

_:What, that I'm brainless?:_ Harry smiled softly and nodded absently to several students as he passed by them, who gave him wide passage.

_:Of course you are. About as brainless as Marilyn vos Savant. I like that you desire to figure it out on your own rather than simply asking what I mean.:_

Harry turned and walked through the library doors, then headed for a secluded table on the first floor. _:Well, if I intend to understand you better, isn't it wise to attempt it on my own?:_

_:Quite right,:_ said Tom as Harry slipped into a chair and offloaded his bag from his shoulder. _:Harry, there's something that concerns me that I wanted to talk to you about.:_

_:Okay.:_

_:I can understand why you might wish to speak more in depth with Remus, but I am somewhat worried about how trustworthy he is.:_

Harry immediately frowned, but remained silent, waiting for Tom to explain himself.

_:While I am not saying he must have spoken in any detail to Dumbledore about your conversation at Privet Drive, it is possible that he did so. I am concerned that his desire to be honest with the old man might overcome his desire to make you happy should you reveal the truth to him.:_

_:A conflict of interest? Wouldn't a Wizard's Oath take care of that?:_

_:It would have to be very carefully worded, Harry. Carefully enough that even a Slytherin couldn't find a way around it.:_

_:But that's all right, then, isn't it? If he was willing to take it, then okay. If not, then I suppose you would need to tinker with his memories. It seems to me that something suitable could be worked out. You didn't get as far as you did by being an idiot, Tom.:_

_:Are you sure? I'm falling for you, after all. I'm quite sure St. Mungo's would love to have me as a long-term case study.:_

Harry laughed softly and opened his bag, pulling out a book.

_:Ah, I need to go for a while. Severus is available to talk, so I'll speak with you later.:_

_:Try not to have too much fun, Tom.:_

«« :: »»

Dobby had already begun to spruce up the new library, though whether it was to his own tastes or to Harry's Tom was not sure. It went almost without saying that Tom was not very familiar with just what a house elf was capable of aside from what he had witnessed firsthand. After all, how many people knew that one could jump a passenger through wards?

Tom felt that it was far safer to conduct any meetings there. While Severus could and did ward his office and quarters, it was still possible that Dumbledore had means by which he could circumvent the obvious, and Tom made a mental note to ask Dobby to check things when he had a moment, unobtrusively.

As it was, Tom was comfortably ensconced in a squashy armchair situated in front of a very realistic (though fake) fireplace. Were one able, one could see past the illusion to realize that the flames, scent, and warmth were byproducts of a few carefully placed spells. When Severus was brought in he took the other chair without speaking and accepted a glass of port with a slight nod of his head.

It wasn't until several minutes later that he spoke. "I thought you should know that I have entertained Mr Malfoy no less than three times this week. Or, are you already aware of this?"

Tom shook his head. "The portrait in your office is there merely to allow you to pass along messages if need be. The same applies to the one in your quarters. What was Malfoy's purpose?"

Severus gave a disgusted snort. "To whine. It is, after all, one of the things he excels at."

Tom rubbed his forehead and nodded slightly, knowing there must be a great deal more to it than basic childish idiocy.

"Specifically, he has been torturing me with his incessant complaints about how very unfair it is that with his father in Azkaban he has lost some of his power within Slytherin. With that, he seems to be convinced that were his father free, Potter's re-sort could have been prevented. He has also seen fit to bring up the fact—in his mind, at least—that as a prefect and the son of Lucius Malfoy he should have been made aware of Potter's change of house almost as quickly as it happened."

"I see. What had you in mind to tell him, then, assuming you were to do more than listen?"

"Aside from the part where I bit my tongue to prevent calling him a dolt? Given your earlier words of wisdom I had thought it might be prudent to tell him something vague, yet appealing, such as how it was a wonder that the high and mighty Dumbledore managed to fall obligingly to our lord's plans to get Potter into Slytherin."

Tom chuckled appreciatively and tipped his glass slightly at Severus. "Such wicked truth. I don't suppose you've noticed any of your supplies missing, or potions?"

"You are referring to that spectacle in the paper," Severus stated flatly. "No, I have not. It is possible that Malfoy procured some through one of his contacts."

"I shall have to ask Harry to question the master portrait, then. Though, given that the serpents have had so little to report up until now, it may be pointless. They did warn us that Malfoy was up to something, but were unable to provide any specifics."

Severus gave him an intense look, then said, "Doesn't Potter have that wretched map in his possession?"

"Sorry?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "If he does, he could set watch on Malfoy to find out where he has been going to discuss his plans. Assuming he has not been using means other than speech to do so, the map could give you other places in which to place spies."

Tom looked at him quizzically, then sent, _:Harry?:_

_:Yes.:_

_:Severus has mentioned a map of yours?:_

There was a slight pause, and a distinct spike of confusion. _:I understand what he means. Why?:_

_:The master portrait could not tell us much. Severus has suggested you use this map to keep on eye on Malfoy's whereabouts in case we need to place more spies. And what the hell is he talking about anyway?:_

_:Sorry, Tom. He's referring to the Marauder's Map. It shows most of the school, and of course, whoever is currently within. I'll show it to you the next time you visit. Please tell him thank you for me, for the reminder?:_

Tom shook his head slightly. "Harry understands, and asks me to tell you thank you for the reminder."

Severus snorted softly and muttered, "Brat," though Tom got the impression that the man's reaction wasn't anything like it might have been in the recent past.

"I wonder if it was Crabbe and Goyle playing the starring roles," he mused out loud, then grinned at the look of horror which flickered over Severus's face. "A shocking idea, hm? If it was, one must wonder just how much control young Malfoy has over those two."

"I beg that you desist in such utterings. I am quite sure I shall have nightmares over this. Thank Merlin I have a ready supply of dreamless sleep potion on hand."

Tom bit his lip against laughter. To change the subject he said, "I believe I might try Harry's latest idea tomorrow afternoon. I've already set aside the morning for more interviews with various Death Eaters. At any rate, I trust your judgment on what to say to Malfoy as the occasion arises. If you wish not to be bothered with reporting any of it, simply say so in whichever room you normally receive him in. The serpent will know to pass those conversations along to the master. Otherwise, the usual will suffice. Though"—Tom furrowed his brow—"we should come up with something a bit easier in terms of you being able to let Harry know you wish to speak with me if it cannot wait."

"Unfortunately, Protean Charms do not work both ways."

"I suppose we could simply make another set, though preferably not rings. It isn't as though you can just waltz up to Harry on a moment's notice."

Severus sighed and cast him a weary look. "I suppose it would not kill me to wear some kind of pendant."

"If you like. It would be interesting if you could get Malfoy to gloat about his little prank, Severus. It might also be interesting if he were to somehow get the impression that Voldemort is considering the idea of recruiting students, though that should perhaps wait until we knew where he has been lurking of late. I would not be surprised if the boy is even now planning another way to strike at Harry."

"Nor would I. And is Mr Potter spying on this conversation?"

Tom shook his head. "I think I can safely say that the first time was simply the testing of a theory. In any case, I told him I would pass on any relevant information if it was not private in nature. Tell me, if you will, how long were you betting it would take before Harry figured out your ruse?"

"I assumed he would be confused and that I would have to either pull him aside for something a bit more obvious or wait until Tuesday evening," Severus said flatly.

"Then I expect you will be pleased to know that he realized something was very off almost immediately and asked me to interpret the comment left behind on that parchment. Of course, I would not be at all surprised if he is still wondering where you got your hands on an essay of his from a previous year. Or perhaps I mean to say why you still had it."

Severus smirked and declined to comment.

"Hopefully," Tom continued, "we will have a better idea on certain issues within the next few days. I don't much see the point in extending a holiday invitation for no reason, never mind that I would prefer not to deal with any more of the bastards than I need to." He paused and shot an inquisitive look at Severus. "I find I am curious as to what you might do once this is over. Surely you would not wish to stay at Hogwarts teaching idiot brats an art that many of them cannot appreciate."

"That depends," Severus said with a slight smile. "Assuming I am able to do as I wish without interference from the Ministry, I expect I would gravitate toward advances in Potions, research, development."

"With a sideline in order to generate the necessary funds?"

"If I had a sideline, where would I find the time to research? I hope you are not implying that I am destitute," Severus said with a bit of a sneer.

"No, but then, I wouldn't really know. I valued you for your talent, not for your vault. However, if you find yourself in need of an investor, please let me know. I'm afraid I rather understated my, er, means to Harry when the subject came up."

When Severus arched a brow Tom continued, "I would explain that in more detail, but I'm afraid it touches on something I think is not my right to . . . discuss. That reminds me, though, that I really ought to do a little research into possible professions Harry might pursue once this is over."

Severus arched his brow again, then said, "Shall I assume that auror is out?"

Tom waved one of his hands in a dismissive manner. "I very much doubt that would interest him. This is speculation on my part, but I tend to think that his track record with the Ministry would put him off that idea quite handily. There may be a number of very noble people employed there, but Harry has certainly had to deal with some of the more corrupt aspects of it. Then again, he may surprise me. He certainly manages that on a regular basis already."

Severus took a sip from his glass, swallowed, and said, "I will keep your offer in mind. Unfortunately, I do have a detention scheduled shortly, so I really must be going."

"Certainly. I will create a second set of signals in the meantime." He concentrated, then said, "Dobby, would you please return Severus to his office?" Once Severus was safely out of the way Tom contacted Harry again.

_:I'm here.:_

_:Are you free at the moment? I thought perhaps we could talk, or do a little work.:_

_:In the Chamber library?:_

_:Yes, unless you would prefer your room.:_

_:No. It will be a few minutes, though. I'm still in the library, and I'll probably have to shake Blaise off with an excuse should I run into him.:_

«« :: »»

"It's funny," Harry said as he dropped into the chair Severus had been using. "I still can't just sneak off without coming up with excuses. I honestly didn't think that anyone in Slytherin would approach me with any kind of neutrality, or even with friendship in mind." He shrugged and gave a lopsided smile. "What did you want to work on?"

Tom returned the smile and said, "That depends. We could give Occlumency a try, or we could see about teaching you the Protean Charm."

Harry flashed a brilliant smile, then frowned. "Why am I learning Occlumency again? I mean, you practically live in my head at times so. . . ."

Tom remained silent, hoping that Harry would reason it out for himself.

"And I'm not really all that worried about Snape, either." Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he gazed at Tom with curiosity plainly written on his face. "Okay. Then I suppose the headmaster, in case he wants his own proof, rather than trusting my word, or Snape's? Oh, and because he's nosy, naturally."

Tom grinned and inclined his head. "Exactly so. And once I am certain that you can block me out, we'll move on to the idea of presenting a false face in memory."

Harry furrowed his brow and stared at the fire for several minutes. "There's good and bad points to that," he said finally.

"Which are?" Tom was quite curious as to his reasoning.

"Well, if I were simply going with the usual, it would be blatantly obvious I had actually learned what was being asked of me. That may or may not lead to a request that the lessons continued for exactly what you just mentioned. After all, were I to face Voldemort and get attacked in such a manner, a wall may not be taken as a measure to block out the visions, but as a measure to hide something very important."

When he paused for long enough Tom said, "And?"

"It might also make Dumbledore wonder if I had begun to hide things from him. On the other hand, were he to test me and I presented a false face, he might wonder if I was completely hopeless. Well, at least until he realized he was not seeing anything of importance. Either way, I have to wonder if he would finally begin to tell me kinds of things I should have known last year."

"Such as Order information?"

Harry nodded and shifted slightly. "But"—he sighed—"being as disillusioned as I am, I would almost think he wouldn't under the guise of me being too young and needing to have something of a childhood. I mean, I don't understand. I really don't. I don't think I've ever really had a childhood, not in any conventional sense. What are his intentions? Is he planning to wait until I complete my seventh year to actually get serious about having me trained? If he thinks that my death at your hands means you're immortal, then. . . ."

Harry ruffled his hair in a frustrated manner and scowled. "None of it makes sense. If he had honestly wanted me to have some kind of a childhood he would have done everything he could to keep me out of the situations I found myself in every single year. But he didn't. Or, were these minor little squabbles"—Tom winced slightly at the sarcasm—"his way of seeing if I could handle increasingly dangerous situations, and seeing if I had managed to gain any friends loyal enough to stand with me?"

Harry looked up, his expression hard. "He knows so much about what goes on in this school. How could he have missed that Quirrel was possessed? That Ginny was possessed? That Barty Crouch Jr was keeping Moody in a damn trunk? How could he, as the head of the Wizengamot, allow that farce of a trial that Sirius was given? Even if he thought Sirius was guilty, is that any excuse to ignore the right to a fair trial? Isn't it better to convict a man by the damning truth of his own words, not supposition and circumstantial evidence? What point is there in having a truth potion if people don't even use it?"

Tom opened his mouth to respond, but Harry gave him a sheepish smile and said, "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

"It is your right, Harry. Though, I would remind you of something the sorting hat said. Dumbledore has been grooming you."

Harry's expression hardened again and he gave a sharp nod. "Yes, of course. The old man is very sly. I recall that he once told me it would take a true Gryffindor to wield Godric's sword. Typical, really."

"Perhaps I should ask Dobby to set up one of the other lesser chambers as a practice room for when you need to work off aggression."

"I—" Harry narrowed his gaze, then suddenly smiled. "Well, sure, but it would be awfully nice if there were several figures. You know, like Umbridge, Fudge. . . ."

Tom chuckled appreciatively. "Rita Skeeter?"

Harry laughed and nodded his head. "Well, there should be joy in learning, right?" he countered.

Tom snickered and rose. The more time he spent with Harry, the more—Merlin help him—fun his life became. "Stay seated, if you will, and get comfortable. I'm going to start out with low level casts, Harry, and we'll gradually move up. Combined with what you've already learned and practiced, that should accustom you to what happens so that you can learn to recognize and reflexively defend yourself. All right?"

"Sure."

It was two hours later when they stopped, not because of where they were in their practice—Harry was doing exceptionally well—but because they were both starving. When Dobby arrived to inquire about lunch, Harry said, "Dobby, don't go just yet, please. Anything is fine for me, by the way. But, I was hoping once you had delivered lunch that you would do me a favor."

"Of course, master."

Harry smiled. "I would like you to get the Marauder's Map from my trunk and bring it here. Is that all right?"

"Dobby is being happy to, master," said Dobby, then turned to Tom expectantly.

"Anything is also fine for me, Dobby, but I have a request as well, if you would. As I was hoping to teach Harry about the Protean Charm today, I would be grateful if you would stop by my house, the study, and retrieve the collection of silver discs from my desk. And"—he paused with a slight frown—"when you have some free time, would you be adverse to unobtrusively checking over Severus's office and quarters for anything Dumbledore might have put in place to spy on him?"

"Dobby has already done so, sir. Dobby is knowing that Professor Snape is—" Dobby broke off with a look of confusion and slight frustration. "Dobby is knowing that Professor Snape is to be protected," he finally said, then looked at them both anxiously.

Harry broke out into a wide smile and extended his hand to rest for a moment on Dobby's shoulder. "Thank you for being such a good friend, Dobby, and for considering the professor's safety as well as our own."

Dobby produced a vaguely toothy smile, clearly happy that he had done nothing wrong, firmly stated, "Master is to be eating," then popped away.

"He really is amazing, Harry."

Harry looked over with an unreadable expression. "I still don't know what I did to deserve him. I wish there was something I could do to make him happy."

"You could allow him a mate," Tom suggested.

"Allow? What the—" Harry snapped his mouth closed as Dobby appeared with lunch and immediately began eating, waiting until the elf had reappeared with the requested items and had been properly thanked. "Allow?" he repeated.

"Sorry, Harry. I keep forgetting how very little you know about wizarding customs and traditions. The master of a house elf has, more or less, absolute control over his servant. Dobby is quite unique, but it is obvious that even he would not think to approach you on such a matter, though I suppose it could be simply that that isn't something that he currently wants and so has never mentioned it."

After Harry spent a few moments torturing his roast potatoes he looked up angrily. His voice, however, was calm. "So I should probably ask him if there's anything I could do for him."

"I think that would be wise. You might also consider making it clear to him that he should come to you with any requests he might have, regardless of what they might be, without fear of punishment. I know, Dobby is already very independent, even in service to you, but years of service with the Malfoy family are sure to have left their mark. I still find it almost incomprehensible that he was able to try to warn you back in your second year."

Harry gave a slight nod and continued his meal, speaking a few minutes later. "Then I will talk to him when I'm in a better frame of mind. I feel rather guilty at the moment."

Tom sighed and reached out to touch Harry's hand. "If the guilt belongs anywhere, Harry, it is with me. I should have made certain that you understood all of the ramifications of what Dobby was asking when he bullied you into accepting his bond."

Harry cracked a slight smile. "He did, didn't he."

"Yes. He trusts you, Harry, implicitly. I believe it is very likely that if he understood how very little you know, he also would feel guilty."

Harry sat up straight and frowned. "Well I won't have that. I'll do as you advise and that should clear up the matter. I hope. I'll be damned before Dobby goes back to punishing himself for idiotic things, just because we're all too foolish or thoughtless to talk."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry blinked and gave him an odd look, then said, "Thank you. I didn't mean to rant again."

"That's my hero," Tom said teasingly, then ducked when Harry flipped a potato at his head. "Keep that up and I'll have to find an appropriate way to torture you."

Harry snorted softly. "I'm fairly certain you already know how to do that adequately."

Just to make certain Harry did not misunderstand his meaning Tom said, "Yes, well, I did manage to get a bit of a rise out of you Tuesday evening, did I not?"

Harry did not look up when he said, "That you did. But, ware, good sir, lest your student learn too well and turn your lessoning against you."

Tom laughed, then harder as Harry looked up with a grin. "I shall welcome that day."

When they had finished eating Harry activated the map and spread it out so they could both view it. "I'm quite sure a learned fellow such as yourself can see the beauty of this map," Harry said with a smirk.

"Indeed. Perhaps Severus should accidentally let a copy of Malfoy's schedule fall into your innocent hands so that you would have a better idea of when to try and keep an eye on his whereabouts."

"Yes, it would be tragic, for someone, should that happen, I quite agree."

"Speaking of being sneaky, I wonder if you might also like to be taught how to perform the Disillusionment Charm."

"Absolutely. My cloak is all very well, but it can also be somewhat inconvenient at times. I may not be overly tall, but neither am I as short as I was at eleven."

"Technically, you could change that, but it is a bit painful," Tom pointed out.

"My height?"

He nodded. "The problems inherent in that may or may not be obvious. If you were to become taller, you would also become thinner and place a strain on your bones. The same is true of becoming shorter, though naturally you would look as though you weighed more or were more solidly built."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll go with the spell."

"Very well. Let us begin with the Protean Charm, then."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	23. Jealousy

* * *

**— 23: Jealousy —**

* * *

Harry gazed at his collection of discs, those that Tom normally used for illegal portkeys, and smiled. Granted, it had taken some time for him to get the hang of the spell, and he had actually destroyed a number of them in the process, but in the end he had what he wanted. Tom had even shown him how to modify them, once enspelled, so that they could accept a chain to be worn. 

All that needed to be done further was to use a simple incising charm to etch the front face of each with whatever the wearer might wish. Harry had already done his own, having chosen an image of Hedwig. He had considered a snake, but felt that it said a little more about himself than he was willing to admit to, even in such an obscure way.

Tom had made his own set, just the two, and had sent one off with Dobby to be delivered to Snape. He had incised his with a stylized flame, which had made Harry chortle in amusement. They had also gone over the Disillusionment Charm. All in all, Harry felt like it had been a day well spent, and it was not yet over.

Dobby had once again supplied them with a meal, dinner, and cleaned up afterward, leaving them alone again.

"Harry," Tom said quietly, "do you feel like telling me about the irony of human nature and the downfall of man?"

Harry wrested his gaze away from the discs and transferred it to the fire. "In a nutshell? Intelligence. Somehow humans developed far beyond that of most creatures, but unlike some, we never learned how to integrate that with instinct. We never learned when to let intellect step in and tell us that instinct isn't always wise. I honestly think that we developed too quickly. Then again, I have to wonder at times if war is nature's way of thinning the herd. After all, we have developed so many ways to kill off everything else that we have no true natural enemy but ourselves.

"I would like to think that intelligence should carry with it duty and responsibility, but it seems that isn't the case. Instead of using that gift to find ways to get along, people use it to find more inventive ways to kill each other, just as though they were beasts in the forest or fields. I'm not saying that no good comes of it, but I think, sometimes, that the balance is skewed. We hunt for sport, not because we require sustenance. In some ways we are more barbaric than our ancestors, and just as cruel.

"Intelligence is a double-edged sword, and quite frankly, I think humans as a whole act more like children than anything else. And, as you've said, mob mentality is a dangerous thing. Mobs don't have intelligence, individuals do. We've outgrown some of our instincts, but our bodies and brains haven't caught up to that fact."

Harry looked over and brushed the hair back from his forehead. "Actually, have you ever heard of Sheri Tepper?"

"I can't say that I have."

"I used to spend time in the library when I was younger. Made it easier to stay away from Dudley. She wrote a book, _The Gate to Women's Country_, that you might enjoy reading. I know it ties into mythology, but I think it also explains some of what I think, or maybe even why I think certain things. Granted, the book itself has a lot to do with the differences between men and women, but what I'm trying to say is there. It's also rather Slytherin if you look at it right."

Tom gave him an interested look and nodded. "I'll look into it, then. I do think I see what you mean, however. Of course, morality, an invention of humans, also plays a part."

"Well, yes. But part of the problem is that humans form separate societies, separate cultures. What's acceptable in one country is not in another, and that often leads to disputes and even war. At least in wizarding society it's fairly straightforward, good vs. evil, though you and I both know it isn't quite that simple. Unfortunately, we as a society still suffer from many of the issues that plague the muggle world, such as prejudice, bigotry, crime, and corruption."

"Perspective," said Tom.

Harry smiled slightly and nodded. "Actually, I have a very odd question for you."

"Yes?"

"Are you an artist of any kind?"

Tom gave him a quizzical look. "An artist?"

"You know. Painting, music, sculpture. . . ."

Tom glanced at the floor. "Well, I admit that I did once feel the urge toward jewelry smithing. Why?"

Harry smiled again and arched one brow. "Curious. So, any plans for this evening?"

Tom frowned and stared. "Harry, why did you—why are you changing the subject?"

"I wonder how I'd look with longer hair," Harry said softly. "Do you like long hair, Tom?"

"Harry," Tom said sternly.

Harry grinned and slung a leg over the arm of his chair. "Why, Tom, I thought I would let you figure out the meaning behind the question. Isn't it more fun that way? After all, I like to try to figure out the meaning behind the things you say." He smirked and tilted his head back. It was nice to be able to play the game in reverse for once, and he wondered how long it would take, if ever, for Tom to make the connection. After all, Nero had fiddled, Hitler had aspirations of being an artist. Of course, it might be a completely specious theory. Who knew?

Tom's eyes appeared to glitter for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his mouth. "All right, Harry. Moving on, yes, I do like long hair, and no, I hadn't planned anything in particular for this evening. After all, we have been working steadily most of the day."

"Mm. Tom, what are we going to do for wands? It seems to me that when Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived die, our current wands would more than likely have to be left at the scene."

Tom did a slight double take, then frowned. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Outsmarting me." Tom gave him a disgruntled look. "But you're right. It is something we need to consider as I have absolutely no intention of living the remainder of my life as a muggle."

"So it's not true that a person can only have one true wand." Harry had long suspected that some had more than one, aurors perhaps, but had never bothered to ask about it. And, of course, Sirius had got his hands on one sometime after he had escaped.

Tom shook his head. "Consider this. While I have no doubt that Ollivander is a great wand maker, I do doubt that he or any other of his profession are presentient. If there were only one true wand for a person, what happens if it was made in another country? No, I don't believe it."

"How do we get new wands, then?"

"I'll call in some favors. I'll also see about finding some books on the subject. Generally that kind of information is kept within families, where children apprentice to their parents in the art, but I can manage something, I'm sure."

"Do you think the fangs from the basilisk might be of any use to us? Or would Professor Snape already have found a way to use them in some potion or other?"

"An interesting question, Harry, given that basilisks are magical creatures," Tom replied thoughtfully. After a moment he wrote out a short note and handed it to Dobby when he appeared for delivery.

"At any rate, you might be interested to know that Malfoy has been bending Severus's ear with his complaints about you."

Harry laughed and said, "I hope that Snape is holding up well, then. I don't think I'd be very happy in his position."

"Yes, well, he can be extremely useful if you're able to figure out where he's been making his plans. As it is, Severus will be making the implication that Dumbledore was stupid enough to allow Voldemort's plan for getting you into Slytherin to work."

Harry laughed again, then stabbed a finger at the map. "Interesting. Now why would Malfoy be lurking in Fluffy's chamber?"

"With. . . . Do you recognize those names?"

Harry pursed his lips, tilting his head to one side. "Ravenclaws, I think. Well, I guess this makes sense. Malfoy couldn't very well meet people of other houses inside Slytherin." He looked up and smiled. "You can obtain more portraits."

"Of course. I'm very curious to know what the brat is up to. I can only assume that there isn't a portrait there presently, but one never knows. Dobby will need to be discreet when he goes there to place a serpent, just in case."

Harry nodded and rose only to crawl into Tom's lap and settle himself comfortably. "Yes, and wouldn't it be interesting to find out that Dumbledore doesn't have a clue what's going on? Then again, why should that surprise me? He's already fallen for my acting skills. Do you think he's on a constant sugar high? Or laces those sweets with something?"

"Are you implying that he's a drug addict?"

"I never said that," Harry protested, "but I have to wonder. It's unnatural to be that pushy about sweets, don't you think?"

Tom made a noncommittal noise so Harry buried his face in Tom's neck, quietly inhaling that unique scent, then smiled as hands came to rest on his hips. "You know, you could just move in here, but I guess that would mean relying on Dobby a lot for transportation. Unless . . . there's an outside entrance?"

"I don't know," came Tom's soft voice. "I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't know any of this was here, Harry, so there may well be. And if so, your idea may be quite nice. I would think if there is an outside entrance that it too must be controlled by a Parseltongue password."

"Tom Riddle was brilliant, but not very smart?" Harry breathed into Tom's neck.

The answer was a soft laugh, then, "More like not thinking straight, not thinking expansively. A little too focused, you could say."

"Well, the only entity who should be able to get here, besides us and Dobby, would be Fawkes. Do you think he would betray me to get at you?"

"No, Harry, I don't. Despite being linked to the headmaster, he would know your heart. I do not think Fawkes would cause you grief. He might even protect you from a master who cannot bring himself to understand. It may have been your loyalty at the time to Dumbledore that called Fawkes to your aid, but I think even now he would assist you."

"I hope you're right. I rather like Fawkes, and he did save my life. I would hate for him to consider me his enemy."

"Well, I shall act on your thoughts and do further exploration of this place. For the moment, however, I have something better to do."

"And what is that?" Harry asked.

"Spend time with you, of course," Tom said.

Harry smiled against Tom's neck, then kissed the warm skin, gradually working his way up and over so that he could capture Tom's lips with his own. He shifted the position of his legs to gain leverage and began to rock gently, teasingly.

«« :: »»

_Dear Harry,_

I knew you could do better. That was a very good letter, I must say. Mind  
you, I am now quite curious as to what questions you may have, but  
unfortunately those will need to wait until a more opportune time. You are  
quite right in that respect. Also unfortunate is that I will be unable to come visit  
you for some time.

_While it distresses me to hear that so many are unable to accept what  
happened, perhaps it is for the best in some ways. Surely if your group reforms  
with fewer people, you will be able to trust them more deeply than before, they  
having shown you unequivocally their belief in you. On a related note, I am  
glad to hear that you've found a friend in Slytherin. There is little surprise in that  
to my mind, as you do seem to have a way of drawing people to you without  
trying._

_Yes, I do understand what you're saying about your friends, even if it's from a  
slightly different perspective. I can relate to some degree with Hermione,  
though I do not think I was ever quite that pedantic. Still, I tempered my  
reactions and inclinations to some degree based on my possibly erroneous  
belief that my other nature would cause my friends to distance themselves._

_In any case, I'm very glad to hear that your studies are going well. I did enjoy  
Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, by the way. There is a list on the back of this  
letter of books you might wish to owl order. Start with the first for each  
subject, and if you find those appealing, get the rest._

_I did see the Daily Prophet story. To be frank, it made me laugh. I believe you  
have better sense than to be snogging someone in the Astronomy tower of all  
places, especially knowing of your very marked dislike of attention. What  
sense is there in having a private room if you don't use it when the object of  
your affections is in your house? And, for the record, I would not have cared  
were it true, though I would have hoped you would introduce us. You did call  
me your uncle, after all._

_At any rate, I am glad to hear that you are doing well, and that your time has  
been fairly untroubled but for a few minor incidents. Keep a close eye out,  
Harry, and don't let your guard down, even there._

_Love,  
Moony_

_:Well, I think he got the hints,:_ Harry sent as he folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.

_:I agree. I think it will be interesting when he is able to come visit you. For your sake, though, I hope it will not be a very long wait.:_

Harry shrugged and slipped the letter into his rucksack._ :Well, if our lessons go well enough, then perhaps I can have already talked to Ron. About the prophecy, anyway, and a few other things. If that goes well, I think I'd be more confident when it comes to Moony, even if that didn't go as well.:_

As he reached in to pull out one of his early Potions texts Tom sent, _:That makes sense given some of your earlier statements.:_

_:You know, I have to wonder why Snape tried to teach me the way he did. I can't ask him, I know that, but still. It's like he skipped over everything I should have started with and went straight to the offensive. I can't tell if it was some kind of backward compliment or anger getting in the way. I am learning properly now, though, and that's what matters.:_

_:I would not dwell on it, Harry. There may come a day when he may tell you willingly, but there's no sense in waiting for something that might not ever happen.:_

_:All right. By the way, had you planned anything for Halloween this year?:_

_:No. I thought it might be nice to give it a rest. I have been far too, shall we say, stuck in a rut as far as certain dates are concerned. It may well be that lack of activity on that occasion may throw Dumbledore off balance a little.:_

Harry snickered softly. _:I'd love to see that. Assuming I've been playing my role correctly, he's probably feeling quite secure these days, though it does make me wonder if the fiasco of Occlumency lessons made it so that my mind would be wide open to visions I could report.:_

_:Ah, but Lord Voldemort is very aware of that connection and has occluded his mind tightly so that you, my dear spy, cannot forewarn the headmaster of his activities.:_

_:Sneaky little devil. I almost feel a grudging respect for the old goat.:_

_:Little? I do believe I am offended by that.:_

Harry grinned at the manufactured indignation he could sense and shook his head slightly. _:You quibble over that instead of the term goat? My goodness, Tom. And here I am reminded by my own screwy sense of humor of Dumbledore's brother and his penchant for inappropriate charms on goats.:_

Amusement exploded into him, and Harry knew Tom was laughing wherever he was.

«« :: »»

Things were, Harry thought, going quite well considering. The reformed DA was managing to practice twice weekly and there was none of the previous bother associated with quidditch practice schedules as it was only Gryffindor they needed to worry about. Harry had taken to spending an hour or two most evenings reading from either the Chamber library or from the selection of books that Blaise had asked for.

From those endeavors he had drawn up a list of likely spells they should consider learning, some of which were well beyond the norm taught at Hogwarts, and they had been steadily working their way through them. It was, perhaps, a great shock to Hermione that Harry had been the one to provide them with their signals rather than herself, and before she had had a chance to bring the subject up.

Harry had simply shrugged, smiled sheepishly, and gone straight into a discussion of the list he had managed to write at that point. As it stood, they had just finished one of their meetings when Harry asked Ron if he would be willing to take a walk with him before heading back to the tower.

"Sure, Harry, but nothing too strenuous."

Hermione gave a small sniff of disapproval before striding off through the door, for once not lecturing anyone on the importance of study, revision, or anything else. The others soon followed with the exception of Blaise, who had stayed back per earlier request.

"Er, what's up?" Ron asked after glancing at Blaise.

"Well, I didn't want a walk so much as to talk to you, but I really don't want to do that here. I thought, if you're willing, Blaise and I could sneak you into Slytherin so we could talk in my room, and when you're ready to go, he'll help sneak you back out." Harry reached into his bag and pulled, revealing a section of silvery material, then glanced at Ron inquiringly.

"Just to talk?" Ron said in disbelief, then shook his head. "Right, mate. Hand it over."

Harry exhaled in relief and pulled his invisibility cloak out fully, handing it to Ron a moment later. As soon as his friend disappeared from view he said quietly, "Okay, just stick right behind us. If there's a problem, make a hissing noise, and if possible, keep a hand on my shoulder so I know you're there."

A soft snort issued from thin air.

"Right, let's go, then," said Harry, then exited the room, waiting long enough for Blaise to come up beside him and for Ron to shadow their backs.

«« :: »»

Blaise winked as he shut the door, leaving them alone. A second later Ron appeared, a slight scowl marring his features. "Nice room," he commented as he laid the cloak over one of the chairs.

"Yeah. I thought it was huge, but Blaise seemed to think it was pretty normal. Definitely different for people like you and me," Harry said, trying to subtly play up the similarities between Ron and himself. "I'm still not used to it."

"How d'you keep Malfoy and the others out, then?" Ron asked with a slightly suspicious look in his direction.

"Another house perk. Each door can only be opened by their occupant, though I guess Snape can open any of them. The same applies to the dorms, though prefects can also get into any of those. I'm not too worried, though, and I did find and teach myself a revealing spell so I can see who's knocking. I only ever let Blaise in," he responded, flopping into a chair.

"So what did you want to talk about? I hardly think you brought me here to watch me get jealous."

Harry half smirked, half grinned. Considering Ron's behavior of late, his friend's comment wasn't entirely unexpected. "No, I didn't. I expected that you'd feel as odd as I did when I walked in here the first time. But it reminds me of the first time I walked into the Burrow. I was amazed, and jealous."

Ron gave a soft snort. Five long minutes passed before Ron finally said, "Jealous."

"Of course. It's the first time I'd ever seen a friend's home for one thing, and it was magical, amazing, and exciting. More than I could have dreamed of, and it was a place where you belonged, where you had a family who cared about you, worried about you. . . ."

"Surely the Dursleys aren't that bad," Ron said uncomfortably.

Harry tilted his head to the side and said, "Ron, do you have to do chores at home?"

Ron blinked, then nodded.

"Such as?"

"Er, well, de-gnoming the garden, keeping my room relatively tidy. . . ."

Harry started ticking chores off on his fingers. "Cooking, washing up, cleaning the house, gardening, laundry, fetching the mail, and whatever else they could think up. Now, don't think I'm asking for any pity, Ron. I wouldn't accept it if you tried. I am trying to make a point, though, and get you to understand what I saw when I first saw your home, and in it, your family. So yes, I was a bit jealous. Of course, what did you do? Share it, all of it. Your home, your family, everything. And do you know what really brasses me off, Ron?"

Ron shifted in his chair and shook his head.

"What really gets me is that you think so little of it, and think so little of having shared that with me. You've managed to give me something I've always longed for, and you think it's nothing."

"Well, you are my best friend, mate. I kind of think of you like a brother."

Harry nodded. "Likewise. That's sort of the point, though. Now I know to you that your home and family is pretty normal, but to me it's a godsend. That brings me to the next thing that really pisses me off. You won't let me, your best friend and member of your family, share what I have with you. In fact, you get defensive and snarly."

Ron scowled at him, then said, "You're talking about money."

"Yeah. Why can't I share with you the only thing I own? I'd give you just about anything, but when I try, you start muttering about it being charity or some rubbish like that. Am I wrong when I think that if you came into money that you'd share it with me without thinking?"

Ron did not answer for some time, and when he did his voice was curiously flat. "Yes, I would. But"—he paused for a moment—"what do you mean, just about anything?"

Harry quirked up one brow and smiled. "My photo album for one. My broom, because of Sirius. And, my cloak, because of dad. Of course, I'm fairly sure you wouldn't want my clothes. Even I don't want them."

Ron smiled briefly, then let out a heavy sigh. "All right. I think I get your point. I'll expect to hear from Gringotts next week that you've made me rich."

Harry laughed. "I went to Gringotts during the summer and found out something interesting, Ron. I have enough money to last me through school and a few years past that if I live modestly."

Ron sat up straight and scowled again. "You went to Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore escorted me to the bank. It was Remus who bought my things, though, since the headmaster thought it was too risky for me to spend any real time there. Actually, it was the morning of the day you arrived."

"Harry, that doesn't make any sense. The Potter line is ancient. How can you not have money?"

He shrugged.

_:He is right, Harry.:_

"Have you even seen your parents' will?" Ron asked.

Harry furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Can't say that I have, and that's assuming they made one."

_:I will see what I can do to check.:_

_:That's fine, but. . . . :_

"Maybe it's because you aren't of age," Ron mused.

_:And what of your godfather? What of your dislike of the idea that if you did have money it could go to Dumbledore?:_

"That's something to consider," he said, knowing Tom would understand it was for him also. He glanced at Ron and continued, "In any case, how much money I have wasn't my point, though I'd set you up if I had enough for the both of us."

Ron shook his head and for a moment Harry felt tendrils of anger. "You would, if I let you. Maybe even if I refused. I just think it's odd that you aren't sure. We're brothers, though not by blood, and I'm a stupid prat for thinking that money is more important than what I have already."

"Er, you said that, not me. But yeah, sort of. I just want you to try to understand that I've had as much reason to envy you as you have me, even if I wouldn't wish my fame on anyone, though perhaps I mean infamy. I want to know that I can trust you, that I can talk to you, and that you'll think about things before you decide to get angry or run off and tell others. Merlin knows I was terrible last year and I took a lot of my anger out on you, and the others. I know that and I'm sorry for it, and I've been trying to direct my anger to where it rightfully belongs, not at whoever happens to be convenient at the time."

Ron, who had been staring at him, blinked and said, "Okay. Some of what Hermione says does occasionally sink in, you know, which leads me to believe that there's something you really want to tell me, but are afraid to."

Harry blinked as well, then grinned. "You could say that, yes. I could ask that you swear a Wizard's Oath. I could ask you to sign a magically binding contract. But I don't want to. I want to believe, and know, that when I tell you things that you won't go tell someone else no matter what it is. You must know how hard it is for me to trust people at this point when so many have no problem turning on me at the slightest provocation. I want to believe you're the rock you've been so far this year. I want to believe I can count on you to hear me out and keep my secrets."

"Harry, I said I'd stand by you and I will. I will try to curb my reactions, and I will keep your secrets."

_:He is sincere, Harry.:_

Harry gave a mental sigh of relief and nodded. "Then prepare yourself, because this ties in with our little raid on the Department of Mysteries." After a short pause with no reaction from Ron he said, "Remember how the prophecy sphere was smashed? Well, as it turns out, I know the person to whom it was originally spoken, and that person showed me their memory of the event. It was Dumbledore, and I have no idea what he would do if he found out I shared it with anyone. My question to you is, are you willing to take the risk of knowing it?"

"This is why you—when did he tell you?"

"About an hour or so after Sirius went through the veil," he said, scowling.

"But why? Now that you know it, aren't you in danger because of your . . . connection?"

"That's what Occlumency is supposed to prevent, but I don't think that's what he originally had in mind when he asked me to learn it. You know my vision was false, a trap to lead me to the Ministry. If I had been able to master Occlumency last year, that wouldn't have happened. Then again, I might not have seen your father being attacked, either, so I'm really not sure how to feel about a lot of what happened. My visions saved your dad, and believe me, I'm very happy Dumbledore listened to me, but it also meant I contributed to Sirius's death."

"You're still taking lessons, though."

Harry nodded. "I'm actually doing all right this time, and I know I can master it. I also haven't been having nightmares or visions. I got a book on it so I could study on my own away from school."

"Snape isn't being a git is he?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"It's a little different now with me in his house. I imagine it takes all the fun out of him taking points when it only hurts the house chances," Harry said with a slight smile. "So, do you want to know, or would you rather not?"

"Why not tell Hermione?"

Harry shrugged and sighed. "She's still been acting sort of funny for one thing. That, and I honestly have to wonder if she would go straight to Dumbledore, then tell me to do every last thing he says for my own protection."

The corner of Ron's mouth curled up, then relaxed. "I'll hazard a guess and say you don't entirely trust Dumbledore for some reason."

"Apparently, Ron, life is more of a chess game than I ever imagined," Harry replied evenly. He wasn't entirely surprised when a look of anger flashed across his friend's face.

"Do you think you would be able to teach me Occlumency?"

Apparently, his chess reference had helped to put Ron in the right frame of mind. "Yes. In fact, since I don't need the book I got any longer, you can have it, though I think it ought to be charmed so that only you and I have any idea what it really is. On a brighter note, I think it will help you with your studies as well once you get the hang of it."

"Then I suppose I should start learning. I would rather not know the prophecy just yet."

«« :: »»

"I think that went well."

Harry sat back and looked into Tom's eyes. "Yes, but I'm not sure I'd have dared if you weren't here in hiding to assess his honesty."

Tom grinned slightly. "Do I get a reward for my exceptionally good behavior?"

"Of course, and since I'm all yours tomorrow, I'm sure you can come up with something by then."

"I have to wait?" Tom produced a patently false pout.

Harry nodded firmly. "Yes, you do. Just think, anticipation can be a boon in many ways."

Tom rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on Harry's hips. "I've created a monster."

Harry smirked. "I don't think so. You're just seeing the real me, now that I'm able to be so."

"Is that so," Tom drawled. "Well then, you shall not mind in the least when I torture you tomorrow."

"I'm sure I won't," Harry retorted, "and I'm sure it will give me many new ideas for the future. After all, you are an excellent teacher, and I can be an excellent student when I set my mind to it."

Tom chuckled softly. "Indeed. So, back to business. I will put out ears on the matter of those wills. It may well be wise for us to delay the so-called final confrontation until after you reach your majority. If it is true that there is more to your inheritance than just the vault you're aware of, you would do well to revise your will, and find ways to settle things more to your satisfaction."

"Translation being, convince the goblins to hide the majority of my alleged fortune without anyone's knowledge."

"Exactly so, Harry. It is possible, however unlikely, that with Dumbledore as your magical guardian that he is very aware of the facts, and given that your will only covers the contents of your current vault, he may, in fact, be the sole beneficiary of anything and everything else."

"I cannot allow that to happen," Harry said calmly. "I assume, then, from what you've just said, that you have no objections to holding off on our 'deaths' until this matter is resolved."

"Of course not. I know how much it would pain you for that old man to gain anything owing to your ignorance. If there is more to this than speculation, we will wait until after you are of age to finalize our plans. Severus will be likewise informed."

Harry gave him a curious look. "Do you think, should Ron and Remus come on board, that they would be willing to assist us?"

"I would not be surprised. After all, should one or both of them be captured, surely a hot-headed Harry Potter would race off to rescue them, would he not?"

Harry grinned broadly.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	24. Allaying Memories

* * *

**— 24: Allaying Memories —**

* * *

**Note**: I've been told that the concept of emancipation doesn't exist in the UK as it does in the US, but I'm using it anyway.

* * *

Their morning, as was now custom, was spent on the art of Occlumency. It was becoming rapidly apparent with Tom teaching him that Harry was mastering the subject quite well. It was also apparent to Harry that despite Tom's pouting the day prior he was not going to get out of his normal workload, not that the knowledge bothered him. In fact, it was one of the rare times in his life when he genuinely liked and respected the one teaching him, and wanted wholeheartedly to do his best.

They were fast approaching the time when Tom would be teaching him how to defend his mind using a false face in memory. He had already suggested that Harry spend some of his free time sorting out which memories he could afford to show and those that had to be protected at all costs. He had also implied that with the use of their metamorphmagus talent that false memories could be constructed, which Harry thought was quite interesting indeed.

It was already true that Tom could not discern the falsehoods that Harry purposely spoke, and he could detect and deflect the man's intrusions. Given how much more powerful Tom was than Snape, he did not doubt that he could also deflect the Potions Master, though he wasn't entirely certain about Dumbledore. Part of their morning was set aside in a discussion of memories it might be wise to manufacture.

However, that was quickly ended when lunch arrived.

"You know, being able to fend off casual use of Legilimency is all very well," Harry said, "but it doesn't prevent people from using veritaserum on me. Granted, I don't necessarily think Dumbledore would go to those lengths if he was curious, but I wouldn't entirely discount it."

"I understand, but there is very little that can be done about such a thing. If he, or anyone else, were to get you into that situation, you would be compelled."

"Yes, but. . . ." Harry aimed a slight smirk at Tom and ruffled his hair. "I can think of one way around it, possibly. Can't you?"

"And still be speaking the truth? No, I—" Tom stopped and gave Harry an assessing look.

"_Are you sure?_" Harry hissed.

Tom's eyes widened, then narrowed. "I've definitely created a monster. You realize, of course, that use of Parseltongue would simply lead others to believe you definitely had something to hide."

"Of course," Harry agreed, "but it is a way of finessing the restrictions. The Imperius Curse does not work on me, nor Legilimency. Unless there is some other method I am unaware of to enforce cooperation. . . ."

Tom looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "There are some potions, but as they work on the same basis as the Imperius, the results would be the same. However, as they are potions, the one affected would have to struggle against the effects for a longer period of time. Assuming you had the required amount of will and control, those could not be used to any advantage."

Harry grinned. "Then perhaps we should ask for some samples?"

«« :: »»

"You were right, by the way, your theory."

"Oh, which one?" Harry asked.

"Which one indeed. Regarding my ties to the Dark Mark. No, I haven't quite yet managed to fully alter one at a distance, but I'm working on it. It's tiring to attempt it this way."

"I would imagine so, but at least the connection serves as a conduit for your magic, and guide." Harry set down his book and said, "I saw something interesting on the map. One of the people Draco has been meeting is Marietta Edgecombe. She's the one what betrayed the DA last year to Umbridge."

"Personal grudge?"

"I don't know. Possibly. She definitely doesn't like me. I suppose it's also possible that it wasn't Crabbe and Goyle playing the starring roles. Edgecombe may know others in Ravenclaw who sympathize with Voldemort. Much as I hate to say it, the recent change in tactics may have convinced some of them—and please forgive me for this—that Voldemort has started to wise up. If Voldemort is using his intellect more and his mindless rage less, well, who is to say he wouldn't win out?"

Tom rubbed the back of his neck and nodded slowly. "Harry Potter has been an obsession, a point of blindness. The Death Eaters on recruitment have brought in twenty more. Perhaps I should be extending that vague invitation after all."

"For Christmas? I don't see why not, though I don't know where you'd be holding it."

"I could impose on Narcissa," Tom said ruminatively.

"Perhaps, but you don't know that she's doing anything other than playing a role. Using Malfoy Manor is all well and fine, but if any of the students that show up are not wholehearted, they might report on the gathering and she could come under scrutiny," Harry countered.

"I could make her an offer of sorts," Tom said, then continued at Harry's inquisitive look, "I could make certain things plain to her, such as my utter lack of interest in her as a Death Eater. If she were to host a social gathering with an uncertain guest list, she would be wise to remove any and all traces of darkness from the manor beforehand. It can be deuced difficult to find someone among the ranks who has the requisite social skills to put together something of this nature."

Tom had a point, Harry allowed. Never having met the wives of people like Crabbe and Goyle he supposed that it could very well be true. "Don't. Or not exactly. Strongly suggest to her that she ought to take a holiday in France or wherever, and tell Draco he's being given a chance to start proving himself useful, beginning with recruitment within Hogwarts. The more students who show up for a gathering at his house over the holiday, the more pleased Voldemort will be. Once you have the names it's a question of interrogation when it seems best. Since we may have to wait until I'm seventeen to get around to finishing up, that's plenty of time."

"I can have Severus explain that to the boy. I'll contact Narcissa personally."

"Well, my dear Lord Voldemort, it would be beneath you to speak directly to a peon such as Malfoy, would it not?" Harry said archly. "Why, he is not even in your service yet, and deserves no such honor or consideration."

"You, on the other hand, deserve everything you get," Tom commented and snickered. He sobered after a moment and said, "If Malfoy is speaking outside his house, you need to be careful, Harry, and alert. I realize, it would be uncharacteristic of other houses to attack you, but it could happen."

"I know. I don't usually go anywhere alone." Harry scratched the back of his neck and wrinkled his nose. "Tom, is it wrong to not want to wait to find out about my possible finances? I'm not saying that Sirius would have left me anything or not, but I am having trouble with what I have from my parents."

"No, but it's still true that you aren't of age." Tom sighed, then abruptly smiled. "Look, Harry, I'm fairly well off. If you want, I can front the money for a bribe to get you emancipated in the muggle world."

"A bribe?" Harry blinked and gazed at Tom quizzically.

"Yes, for your aunt. If she would take it, she could arrange with the muggle authorities to emancipate you. The goblins would have no reason to quibble over wizarding details. You _were_ muggle raised, after all, despite not being a muggleborn. You give me the authority to deal on your behalf and I could go speak with her and negotiate. Once we had that signed and delivered, we could go to Gringotts one Sunday and see exactly what's going on with your finances and see about changing your will."

Harry turned that over in his mind for a few minutes, then smiled deviously. "I suppose it would be a bad idea for you to show up at the house looking like me."

Tom snorted in amusement. "If you're interested in the idea, then I would have to test the idea of blood connection. If I cannot approach the house, then we'll simply have to wait, or I'd have to find someplace else to arrange a meeting."

"True, but if you brushing the wards sets off some kind of alarm, Dumbledore may bribe them to move. Then again, he may not care, having some misguided belief that I would be heartbroken over their potential deaths."

Tom shrugged. "I think the blood combined with a lack of ill intent would probably get me through them. If it had been something as silly as a muggle blood transfusion, then no, but it was a ritual, so I think the distinction is important and valid."

"Score more points for me for theory," Harry said with a smirk. "If you want, okay. But, you will behave yourself, right? I mean, they get me fairly angry on a regular basis. And are you sure you have enough money? I should think they'd be awfully greedy."

"I wouldn't kill any of them," Tom said patiently. "At worst I would use the Imperius to get what I wanted with a minimum of fuss. And no, I wouldn't want to speak with your uncle. He would be quite a trial on my patience alone."

"Then I guess you should check to see if you trip the wards. If not, I guess I could write a letter or something for you?"

"That sounds fine."

As it turned out, Harry's theory was proven correct. Tom did not trip the wards, not at all, showing that Harry had been in danger ever since Voldemort had been resurrected. The more Harry learned over time, the more he realized that Dumbledore was far too secure in his abilities, and was not one to spend much time thinking outside conventional boundaries.

Still, the fact that Harry had never been given special training beyond Occlumency continued to puzzle him greatly. Was the idea that he should not until he could safely occlude his mind, thereby keeping close such knowledge? Harry didn't think that made any sense. It could be true that the more people who died along the way, the angrier and more determined Harry would get, but there would still be a delay while he was being trained.

Surely Dumbledore didn't think things would wait until Harry had decided to go into auror training, did he? How many people would have had to die before it was time? On reflection, Harry decided that it was possible that his parents had left a will asking that he be kept safe until he was an adult, but that also made little sense to his way of thinking.

Now that he had given Tom a letter to his aunt, perhaps he would be able to find out for himself what his parents had had to say. He was curled up in one of the armchairs reading about arithmancy when Tom arrived, and given that it had not been Dobby who brought him in, Harry supposed that his bonded had come through the outside entrance. After lowering the book he said, "Any news?"

"She has agreed," was the soft reply.

Harry raised his brows questioningly, then said. "I see. Agreed on what terms?"

"Monetary terms. I admit, she was not happy with the possibility that you might need to stay with them for a portion of this coming summer, but money was able to once again win the day and obtain a favorable response. Do not worry, Harry. What she accepted is but a fraction of my worth. She has been given proof that you have a home of your own, and will have money of your own so that there should not be any issues when she petitions the courts for this ruling, though I may have to be present, as you, in order to see that things run smoothly."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "How long?"

"I will return in a few days time. Once we have the appropriate paperwork, you and I shall go to Gringotts, as I said."

"Well, I suppose that if I do actually have more to my name than a few thousand galleons, I should be thinking of ways to hide it."

Tom took a seat in the other armchair and turned his gaze on the fake fire. "Given the enmity between goblins and wizards, you may be able to use that to your advantage. They, too, can probably be bribed, or if you prefer, thanked graciously for their assistance in a most delicate matter."

Harry snorted softly.

"It is not impossible that you could transfer the bulk of your estate to a new vault under your new name. Your secondary will, covering any vaults aside from your current one, could stipulate that those named would only know of bequests to them personally. There is no need for the will itself to be made public. All the goblins need to do is send out owl post to those specified to alert them."

"They can't be forced to show the will?"

"Not according to the charter that Gringotts operates under. I suppose if you wanted to you could set up the bequest vaults ahead of time. All Gringotts would need to do is send out notices upon your death for people to pick up their keys."

"I'll worry about it when," Harry said with a nod.

Less than a week later Harry had a set of emancipation papers. It was downright amazing how useful magic could be when you didn't scruple to stick to the rules. The only technicality was that Tom had forged his signature, but Harry didn't let that bother him. A quick spell erased it and Harry had soon signed it himself. No one would bother to check the copy left with the muggle authorities, and Tom assured him it would not matter.

"This is an excellent early Christmas present, Tom, but I still won't say no to that dartboard."

Tom chuckled and gave him a lingering kiss. "If you say so. Though, I have to wonder what I might be getting."

Harry gave him an assessing look, then shook his head. "What _does_ one get for their favorite Dark Lord who has everything? I'm afraid I have no earthly idea. For that matter, I still have no idea when your birthday is."

Tom shrugged and smiled. "It doesn't really matter." At Harry's confused look he said, "After all, Ash won't have the same birthday as mine, so you may as well pick any day you like, right?"

"That . . . is so unfair," Harry said petulantly. "But I suppose you're right. I hereby dub thee a scorpio, and shall decide your date of birth at some later time, preferably in the year of the snake."

"Oh, as you wish," said Tom meekly, then grinned.

Harry snorted. "Sunday, then."

«« :: »»

When Harry walked into Gringotts at Tom's side he did so with longish blue-black hair, grey eyes, and a scarless forehead. If one looked closely enough they might notice a vague resemblance to Sirius Black. It being a Sunday the bank was fairly quiet, which suited them just fine.

He and Tom approached the first available teller. "We would like to speak privately with someone well versed in matters of inheritance and account management," Harry said quietly.

The goblin gave them a superior look from his position of greater height and replied, "I see . . . Mr. . . ?"

"With respect, that will be revealed in private," Harry said smoothly, glad that Tom had coached him before they had left.

After a second condescending look the goblin turned and gestured at another, who nodded and stepped up to listen to whispered instructions. A minute passed, during which Harry waited patiently, then the second goblin turned and left only to appear seconds later before them. "Follow me," it commanded, then began to walk away.

Harry and Tom followed it across the lobby and into a corridor at the back that appeared to stretch on endlessly—Harry suspected it was an optical illusion of some kind. Five minutes of walking later they arrived in an office and were waved to seats before a desk scaled to goblin size. Their escort left without another word.

He noticed as he looked around that the office was well appointed, with lavish use of wood and polished stone, both of which were inlaid with veins of gold in strangely flowing abstract designs. Possibly they had some meaning to the goblins, but Harry had not learned much more about them than that they had rebelled occasionally.

The goblin that arrived through a different door was old and venerable looking, but also appeared at first glance to have the same temperament as any goblin Harry had previously met. His expression was haughty and his bearing slightly stiff, as though being in the same room with humans was a trial better visited on lesser creatures.

After seating himself he said, "My name is Greltack. What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Harry inclined his head slightly in greeting. "May I ask, on your honor, that the contents of this meeting be kept in the strictest of privacy?"

"What wizard believes in the honor of goblins?"

"This one," Harry replied evenly. "I would like to believe if treated with honor and respect that any goblin would repay such consideration in kind to the individual that extended it."

"An interesting outlook. Very well, then. On my honor, this meeting shall remain private."

Harry glanced at Tom, who nodded, then back at Greltack. "Thank you. I assure you I have my reasons for such a request, and those reasons will become known shortly. To that end, let me ask my first question, before I get to the exact purpose of my visit. Do you, the goblins of Gringotts, recognize that wizards raised in the muggle world are subject to their laws, and by extension, so are the goblins?"

"That depends on which laws."

"I refer to emancipation laws. I have no wish to involve the Ministry in my affairs as they would no doubt move to block my aims, modest and imminently personal though they may be."

"Indeed," said Greltack with a slight nod, "we are. If a wizard raised in the muggle world has been emancipated in the muggle world, we of Gringotts recognize that distinction without Ministry endorsement."

"Splendid. Then I hope that you will be able to assist me with my questions, and perhaps more. I have with me the documentation for you to verify before we go any further." Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the papers, then took a deep breath and reverted to his natural appearance. The goblin's eyes widened slightly, then flicked down as Harry laid the papers on the desk and pushed them forward.

"Perhaps now you can understand my wish for secrecy."

"Yes," said Greltack absently as he perused the emancipation papers. When he looked up he had a strange expression. "These seem to be in order. What questions have you?"

Harry retrieved the papers and tucked them back into his robes, taking a further moment to shift back to his disguise. "When I visited here this summer I made out a will. However, I was under the impression that I had but a single vault. I would like to know if that is accurate."

"It is not. You have estates held in trust for you from your parents and from one Sirius Black. Naturally, both of those involve vaults."

"All right. Does Gringotts hold copies of, should they exist, wills from my parents or Sirius Black?"

"We do."

"Would I be correct in assuming that Dumbledore has been the one receiving correspondence on estate matters on my behalf?"

"Yes. However, as you are an adult under muggle law, whether or not that continues is your decision. It is also true that as an adult all transactions you conduct with this bank are protected under client confidentiality laws."

Harry produced a tight smile. "That is reassuring to hear. How long would it take for you to provide me with an accounting of the estates and copies of those wills?"

"Five to ten minutes. Records are always kept up to date, naturally."

"I would be grateful if you could provide them, then, so that I can go over them at my leisure. I will no doubt need to return to speak with you again once I have made decisions on what I would like done."

Greltack nodded and took a quill from a holder on his desk to write out a short note. A moment later another goblin appeared to take it, then disappeared.

"Is there a specific goblin in charge of handling my estates?"

Greltack shook his head. "The estates more or less run themselves. Any money coming in due to investments is automatically sent to the appropriate vault by the teller who receives it."

"Then who has been sending out correspondence to Dumbledore?"

"Gringotts has a pool of estate managers, Mr Potter. Those who are not specifically assigned to an estate, or estates, handle all routine correspondence for the others. Statements go out on a quarterly basis."

Tom leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "For now, request no changes, and of course, that Dumbledore not be informed of anything, though it should be covered by confidentiality laws. Once we've been able to go over the paperwork we can return and you can make the changes you want."

Harry nodded and said, "All right. Until I have had a chance to go over the estates I won't request any changes other than my current desire for secrecy. Obviously, Dumbledore has no business knowing I was here. I assume that since the statements are quarterly in nature that he received one not too long ago."

"That is correct." Greltack turned at the entrance of a goblin holding a small satchel and nodded. The satchel was passed to Harry, and Greltack said, "I will give you also a letter to bring with you next time so that you can be shown in to me directly without delay."

«« :: »»

Harry opened the satchel the moment he sat down and pulled out a stack of parchments. The top sheet simply contained a balance for his original vault plus a rundown of credits and debits for the past quarter. Harry noted that his withdrawal in August was duly noted, and there was also a symbol in the upper left corner of the sheet that denoted there was a will attached to the vault.

"I'm going to assume," Harry said as he handed that sheet over to Tom, "that the will symbol can be left off for statements to Dumbledore." The second sheet was banded to a group and appeared to cover the Potter estate. Harry lifted the bundle briefly to see that the second bundle dealt with the Black estate.

He set that one aside on the table and looked at the Potter bundle. The first sheet was a will; specifically, that of his parents. Judging by the wording he was scanning they had opted to write a joint will, certain parts of which would be enacted depending on whether one of them lived, or if both died. So far as Harry could tell, the inapplicable sections had taken on a dark cast, making them nearly unreadable.

Those he skipped; he could read them later with enough effort if he was still interested. The remainder appeared to be fairly straightforward: Sirius as his guardian; a trust vault set up for his minor years; and a provision for Dumbledore to take over in Sirius's stead should anything happen to the man or go wrong.

Harry snorted. At least it wasn't so bad that Dumbledore had blatantly gone against his parents' wishes, but it still meant he had ignored all that he had probably known about Petunia and her marked aversion to magic. He was sure that Dumbledore had a very good reason for choosing to use blood wards to protect him, though it was no excuse to have ignored years of abuse, and certainly no excuse for his dogs to have managed to ignore his treatment over the summer.

Perhaps Tom was right. Perhaps Dumbledore was so sure in his views on family that it had never once occurred to him that the Dursleys might mistreat him. Harry shook his head in regret. For a man who could clearly see the servants of the Dark, he was surely blind to who stood on the other side of the fence—those who hated wizards as much as Voldemort hated muggles.

The remainder of the bundle was an accounting of the investments made with the Potter money with notations for each on how much money had been deposited during the prior quarter. The actual balance of the estate was more money than Harry would have ever hoped to have seen in his lifetime. A glance through the Black bundle revealed similar information.

"Tom, I haven't the faintest idea what to do with these. There's enough gold in these vaults for me to melt it down and cast my own castle, and have enough left over for furnishings and money to live on for years. How on earth am I supposed to hide this away so that Dumbledore doesn't get it when 'Harry' dies?"

Tom smiled and laid a hand on Harry's briefly. "First, I would recommend worrying about how much to leave to each of your friends, Harry. Second, I would say that requesting a personal estate manager at Gringotts would be wise. And third, I could be wrong, but a healthy bribe or salary for that manager probably wouldn't go amiss. A goblin is going to be your best ally here. Unless, that is, you would prefer lugging all your gold out of Gringotts to a new location?"

Harry sneered, then rolled his eyes. "Even if the investments were cancelled I'd still be incredibly wealthy. I don't really need them."

"No, but you might consider dividing them up. Create vaults for each person you intend to leave money to, like a trust fund of sorts. Investments could feed off seed money you leave in place and the recipient could use the money gained, or a percentage of it. Once the investments are dealt with, whatever is left over is yours to hide."

"Well, there's plenty to go around. I suppose I could leave a trust to help pay tuition costs for the poor and orphaned. I assume my parents arranged for mine once they knew my name was down. Now that I think about it, I wonder where the school got the money to buy me my first broom?"

Tom shrugged and said, "The school does have its own account. It is not unheard of for alumni of Hogwarts to add to that account."

"I hope you plan on helping me, Tom. I have no real idea of the value of money in the wizarding world."

«« :: »»

"No, this is usually a bad day and you know it. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be wanting company tonight."

Ron shook his head and sighed. "It's not like I'm asking you to attend another of Sir Nicholas's deathday parties."

Harry snorted softly. "I'm just going to hole up in my room tonight after the feast and read something frivolous, and probably go to bed early with a sleeping draught just in case." He glanced around quickly, then leaned in. "But, Saturday, same as usual. Apparently I'm loads better at teaching you-know-what than you-know-who if your progress is anything to go by. If you feel confident then, I'll spill, right?"

After a sharp nod Ron said, "Right. But I want to know for certain, Harry, that you mean what you say. You aren't going to hie off on a whim tonight and get into trouble."

"I give you my solemn vow, Ron. You'll see me in my usual spot in the morning, hale and hearty, though I doubt I'll ever be able to eat as much as you manage," he said, then ducked as Ron aimed a punch at him.

"Can't you at least ask Dobby to sit with you or something? I'm sure if something did happen and you needed help he'd be able to alert Snape. Dobby practically worships you, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help out."

Harry blinked slowly. "That's something to consider."

"Heads up," Ron said and straightened. "You finish that stupid essay on basilisks yet?"

Harry shook his head as Hermione came into his line of vision. "No, I thought for once I'd wait. Besides, I don't think Flaxweld would appreciate being told that all it takes is a phoenix, a hat, and a sword to defeat one. He'd probably give me a zero and a lecture on being big-headed."

Ron sniggered. "I don't know why he assigns this stuff anyway. It isn't like we haven't gone over most of it already. We haven't learned anything new in class this year. In some ways I'm not surprised the Ministry takes interest considering the dross we get for Defense professors."

"Ron, it's very rude to be so disrespectful."

"Hello, Hermione."

"Have you two finished your work? You still have a couple of hours before the feast and the sooner you get it done. . . ."

«« :: »»

"So, what did you have in mind since you aren't going to be out terrorizing the general public?"

"Something pleasant, of course. Sweeter memories to stay the tide of those bad from the past."

Harry looked over at him suspiciously.

"No, Harry. No to whatever it is that's making you look at me like that," Tom said with a smirk as he rose to his feet and advanced closer. "I was simply thinking that we should enjoy ourselves, each other." He splayed a hand across his chest and arched a brow.

"Oh," Harry said after a moment, then smiled. "Tell me something, then. When you peek, how much do you feel from me, because I'm thinking you've been enjoying yourself far more than you ought to be if you sense what I do as well as your own pleasure."

Tom laughed softly and dropped his hand. "You caught me. But, as you have learned to peek on your own, perhaps you can find out for yourself? I am certainly willing to assist you in any experiments you deign to conduct on this matter."

Harry stood and closed the distance, raising his hands to begin unbuttoning Tom's shirt. "How very convenient, then, as I suddenly find myself very interested in experimenting with you." He pushed the shirt off Tom's shoulders, blessing the fact that his bonded had not bothered to tuck it in, and let it drop to the floor. "Deviousness can be arousing," he commented as he reached down to begin divesting Tom of his trousers as well.

"I knew I'd make a proper Slytherin of you one day," said Tom as he toed off his shoes.

Harry snorted softly as he pushed the fabric down off Tom's hips. "I was always Slytherin. Just far too Gryffindor to realize it for some time, or perhaps I mean misled. Either way, you should enjoy the monster you claim to have created."

"Oh, I intend to." Tom dropped to a sitting position on the bed to remove his socks, then looked up.

"Stand back up," Harry commanded gently. "Don't think you get to be lazy or anything."

Tom smirked and rose, then began to remove Harry's clothing. "I see you're back to being the little general."

"I'm going to pretend I never heard that slight," he said loftily, unobtrusively assisting in his bonded's efforts to get him naked. "After all, you know what happens to those who are disrespectful."

"Oh? Should I be worried?" Tom asked as he gently tumbled Harry onto the bed.

"I don't think so. I know the guy who owns this place. I'm sure he'll overlook it just this once."

"How very fortunate for me," Tom replied, then got serious and concentrated on kissing his bonded breathless.

If Harry had thought their encounters before had been enjoyable, it was twice as good feeling his bonded's pleasure mixed with his own. It was almost as though there were two sets of hands skimming his skin, Tom's and his own. He kept his ruminations quiet, though, so that Tom would not hear what was running through his head.

He knew that Tom wanted to, not erase, but to overlay the bad memories with something to help him remember that things had changed, that they weren't all bad, even though one of the worst things to ever happen to him had been on this date. And, in a way, perhaps it was meant for Tom as well considering his own fate that night.

It was rather touching in a way, and Harry could feel a sensation in his chest that was unrelated to the pleasurable activities his body was engaged in. He thought, perhaps, it might be love. He believed that if he asked Tom to let him go, the request would be granted, not because Tom would be happy about it, but simply because it was wrong to keep someone against their will. Of course, Harry couldn't envision asking something like that. While Tom was not the source of his happiness, he did add to it, and Harry had finally found someone he trusted enough to let go with, to express himself with, emotionally.

When Tom pulled back slightly and went to bite at his neck, Harry said, rather breathlessly, "Tom, if you love me, show me?"

Tom's head shot up. "What?"

Heat flooded his cheeks as he said, "I want you to show me. If . . . you do."

After a pause Tom gave him a heartstoppingly sweet smile and said, "As you wish," then gently removed Harry's glasses and laid them on the bedside table.

Harry closed his eyes and willingly gave himself over to greater experience, though he did not, by any stretch, lay passive under Tom's ministrations. Tom took his time in exploring Harry's body, driving him to a fever pitch and keeping it sustained, with no release, only unfulfilled yearning. The bedside table was plundered for one of the vials of oil Tom had brought in several weeks earlier; he could tell by the sounds, even above the beating of his heart.

Tom shifted position, nipping his way downward slowly, until he was facing the foot of the bed. Harry sucked in his breath as one slick finger entered him, and reached out blindly, then pulled, guiding with his hands. The moment he was on his side, as his bonded then was, he began to tease with his mouth and fingers, feeling almost as though he was teasing himself.

A second finger entered him, then a third. In some respects it was no different than the other times they had engaged in bed sport, but the knowledge that this was to go much further had the effect of heightening Harry's awareness and the strength of his reactions. He was beginning to feel quite desperate, and very much on the edge, when Tom pulled away entirely and reversed himself, whispering, "If my Harry keeps that up, I'll not last long enough for what you want."

He let himself be rolled over onto his back, and his legs be lifted to rest over Tom's shoulders, and felt the slow, steady burn of his bonded's entrance once Tom had prepared himself. Once he was fully seated Tom shrugged Harry's legs to either side and leaned forward to capture his lips, and snaked one hand between them.

What followed made Harry want to die. Fingers were excellent tools, to be sure, but they could not replace what he was currently feeling, not with such boldness and assertiveness. That Tom was attacking him on three fronts was mind blowing in its intensity, and Harry could no more hold back his response than he could stop breathing. Of course, he had no desire to do so; the sound barriers on his room made for a delightfully permissive atmosphere, one which Tom was also taking full advantage of.

And when time shattered, Harry helplessly rode out the sensations and his body's automatic response to Tom's final movements within him, still twitching spasmodically even when his bonded released him and buried his face in Harry's neck.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	25. Tangental

* * *

**— 25: Tangental—**

* * *

Harry was, indeed, to be found in his usual place the next morning with a full plate for breakfast. He spared an occasional moment to glance up, finally seeing Ron stumble into the Great Hall. He waited until his friend had the presence of mind to look for him, smiled, then went back to his meal, only to be interrupted when the morning's post arrived, and with it, a note for him, delivered by his very own Hedwig.

Harry scowled slightly at the thought of someone using Hedwig without having asked first, then remembered that she did, on occasion, seem to show up to certain people just as they needed her. On that thought he opened the note.

_Harry,_

_Please come to my office when you are finished with breakfast.   
The password is Milky Way._

_A. Dumbledore_

A quick glance showed that Dumbledore was not in his usual seat at the high table. Perhaps the old man hadn't wanted to use Fawkes, had thought it would be too flashy. He crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket. _:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry?:_ Tom's mental voice was sleepy and soft.

Harry stifled a chuckle and sent, _:Merlin, don't tell me I wore you out. Come on, you need to wake up.:_

_:I'll have you know I'm quite spry for my age, young man,: _came the indignant response._ :What is it?:_

_:The old man sent me a note, wants to see me this morning. We may have thrown him for that loop.:_

The change in Tom's demeanor was immediate. _:Oh, really. I expect he wishes to know if you sensed anything last night.:_

_:I expect you're right. And since I've no idea how strong he really is, I wanted you with me in case my defenses needed some assistance. Besides, I figured you would want to spy anyway.:_

_:Give me five minutes to properly wake up, Harry.:_

_:That's fine. I'm not quite done with my meal.:_ Harry turned to Blaise and said quietly, "I've got to go see Dumbledore in a few and I don't reckon Ron will be done stoking up by then, so if he stops you and asks. . . ."

"Sure, Harry. Any idea why?"

Harry gave a slight shrug. "Probably because yesterday was Halloween. It's more often a bad day than not, you know?"

«« :: »»

"Ah, Harry. Please have a seat. Sherbet lemon?"

Harry sat down and shook his head, saying, "No, thank you. I don't think that would sit well with what I've just eaten, sir."

_:He probably does lace the damn things.:_

"I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here," said Dumbledore. When Harry did not respond he continued, "As you know, yesterday was Halloween. While I am sure you would have requested a meeting if anything untoward had happened to you last night, I thought it was best to find out without question."

"Untoward?" Harry asked, letting his eyes go slightly wider. "You mean like visions or my scar hurting?"

"Exactly so."

"No, sir, nothing like that happened last night. I went to bed early and slept quite well, actually."

Dumbledore nodded vaguely as Tom snickered in the back of Harry's head, then asked, "Have you experienced any pain or visions since returning to school?"

_:Don't mention Occlumency unless he brings it up.:_

"No, sir. Should I have?" Harry asked ingenuously.

"No strange dreams?" persisted Dumbledore.

Harry shook his head. "It's almost as though Voldemort has given up on me for the time being."

Dumbledore's response was to fiddle with his beard for a minute, then say, "I see. I expect you will keep me informed should you experience anything of that nature?" After peering at Harry over the rims of his spectacles for a moment he continued, "Good, good. I shall let you get on with your day, then, Harry."

Harry mumbled a farewell and exited as quickly as he could without seeming suspicious, feeling better only once the gargoyle had resumed its place. _:Well, that didn't take long.:_

_:True, but. . . . Perhaps I'm seeing only what I wish to, but I almost think he was disappointed, Harry.:_

_:Conspiracy Theory 101. Where Dumbledore really was secretly having Snape purposely mess up the Occlumency lessons so that Harry Potter, brave but misguided hero, would have Visions with which he could alert the Order to Voldemort's nefarious deeds.:_

_:Possibly. Note the fact that he did not bother to tell you rumor has it that Voldemort is occluding his mind as well so as to stop those pesky and persistent leaks of information. Either way, I should talk to Severus.:_

Harry stopped dead in the middle of the corridor to consider.

_:No, not here. If you're going to mull that over, do it somewhere private. The last thing you want is for Dumbledore to happen upon you dazed in a hallway.:_

Harry set forth again, letting his feet guide him automatically toward the dungeons.

«« :: »»

"I've given you some time, Harry, but now I'd really like to know how you feel about certain things," Tom said from his perch on the arm of a chair.

"Such as?"

"You've read your parents' will. How do you feel about how Dumbledore handled things? Is he a good guy or a bad guy?"

"One of these days you'll ask a simple question and I'll have no idea how to answer it," Harry complained. "Fine. I think Dumbledore is quite solidly stuck in the grey divide, though he would believe he's pristine white and light. I find it both amusing and hypocritical that a man who sent me off to live with those muggles for the stated purpose of letting me grow up normally and without a swelled head is the same one who apparently has let his own battle with a dark lord go to his.

"I'm very sure that he carefully considered the available options and made the best decisions he could, but given his willful blindness on some matters, we still end up with less than optimal results, such as me being abused for most of my life. The most obvious instance of that is when his people, my supposed guards, were too ineffective to notice I was being beaten.

"At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you were right. And maybe it is true that the original Occlumency lessons were nothing more than a sham. They left my mind wide open to Voldemort. Maybe the more I saw, the more revolted and righteously angry I would have become, and the more likely I would have taken Voldemort down out of sheer determination for the hell he and his merry band of miscreants put people through.

"I also think he's willfully blind to the corruption in the Ministry. If I didn't know better, and maybe I do, I would say he's done very little to counter the ineffectiveness of the Ministry, and in particular, Fudge. It may be just as well that he's always refused the position of Minister. I have to wonder if the reason he stays as headmaster is because he likes playing the role of beleaguered leader of the light. He gains sympathy from certain parties because he has to defend not only against Voldemort, but against a misguided and recalcitrant bureaucracy. And, of course, because he can keep a much closer eye on me from here.

"I mean, really, where does it say that in this case if you cut off the snake's head that you destroy the entire body? I don't think so. So why isn't Dumbledore more concerned with destroying Voldemort's power base? He's obviously not expecting _me_ to be the one to take care of the Death Eaters. I'll be dead, after all, right?

"I'm not necessarily saying that it's always right to fight fire with fire, but when you have a Ministry that looks the other way for the right amount of coin, refuses to even see the problem, and then fails to properly enact honest measures to stem this dark tide, what else should you do? Hope the Death Eaters will play nice and stick to tickling charms?

"As far as my inheritance goes. . . . I'm not sure what to think. Is there some law that demands that such things are not revealed until the person is seventeen?" Harry glanced over at Tom, who shook his head slightly. "So if that's not the case, why did he never say anything? Should I be digging deeper to see if he's been siphoning off funds for use by himself or the Order? Should I be checking to see if he's removed anything aside from money from any of my vaults?

"For that matter, if I'm the sole heir of Sirius—I certainly don't recall a proviso in the will which specified that headquarters should _stay_ headquarters—then why is it that I have not been informed that I own a home? Should I assume he thought I would act childishly and insist on moving there rather than remaining with the Dursleys? Or that I would kick them out? Is it legal for him to maintain the Fidelius Charm over a property he doesn't own and doesn't have the current owner's permission for?

"I was right when I originally thought his reference to a weapon meant me. It sure as hell wasn't that prophecy sphere. Dumbledore is either extremely devious or supremely overconfident. Probably both."

Tom cocked his head to the side and asked, "Do you think he ought to be removed from the picture?"

Harry jerked his head back slightly in surprise. After a moment he said, "I think that depends on your point of view. He was the person two prophecies were spoken to, which is a likely indicator that someone up there wanted him involved. Still, just because he's made some lousy decisions doesn't mean he deserves the worst. Let him have his second day in the sun when Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived die. Assuming there's any justice in the world, he'll realize he was outmaneuvered after his death, presumably from old age. And if there's such a thing as the afterlife, I'd be willing to bet that mum and dad will bend his ear once he arrives."

"Just checking," Tom said lightly. "You know, Harry, he may not have the keys to the vaults. He may only have had your trust vault key in order to give it you when you were retrieved from the Dursleys. The accountings only showed deposits."

"Then I'll just have to ask, right? Maybe it's all aboveboard and I'm worrying for nothing. Still, I don't know why any of it was kept from me. Even if there had been something in either will stating that I couldn't access them until I was an adult, I ought to have known."

Tom smiled and nodded. "We'll just go on, then, finalizing plans. And in the end, we can live normally."

"Do you think abnormal people can live normally?" asked Harry.

"I think that whatever lives abnormal people live is normal for them, so yes."

"Ha bloody ha. Since you're in such a good mood—"

"After last night, who wouldn't be?"

Harry glared at Tom and continued, "—you can look these over and see if the trust conditions I specified make sense."

«« :: »»

Harry thought it was a wonderful thing that he had, after all, gone through with some of those obscure and arcane rituals that Tom had mentioned briefly. Though, it also posed some slight problems all the same. Teaching the much smaller DA how to properly disillusion oneself wasn't so much the problem as was his ability to see past such trickery.

He was, in fact, having a difficult time in determining whether or not his friends were getting the spell right. It was only when he realized that he could discern a faint aura around a disillusioned person that he relaxed.

"Right, listen up," he said, interrupting them. "You guys are doing great. I know you're having a little trouble with this, Ginny, but I think in another session or two you'll have it down. The same for you, Luna. I think it's just because you're both a year behind, but I can't imagine that will hold you back any more than you let it. After all, you did exceptionally well last year, so I expect it to continue this year."

Everyone looked fairly pleased with their progress so Harry nodded and said, "That's enough for tonight, then. It'll be curfew shortly anyway. After we all get this perhaps we can start on using transfiguration in battle situations."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, but he ignored it. That is, until she came over to speak with him. "Why that, Harry?"

"Why not that? It can be a very effective tactic in battle, as I've witnessed myself."

"Ah, yes, the Ministry. Harry, I hope that's all it has to do with this."

Harry arched a brow and gave her a steady look. "The main point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is learning how to defend yourself. Transfiguration can be just as effective as a shield or a stunner, and at times, far more so. A shield isn't going to help against the killing curse, that's for sure. The point of the DA is to learn to defend ourselves, and certainly to learn what we're denied in class. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not, Harry. I just want to be sure of your priorities."

He glanced over her shoulder to see the rest of the DA staring at them, then focused on her. "I think my priorities are exactly where they ought to be. However, if you feel differently, then I should think you would do me the courtesy of confronting me in private."

"Something to hide, Harry?"

He gave her a sad smile. "I'm so glad to see you still have faith in me. It warms my heart, it does."

She frowned and said, "You didn't answer my question."

"No, but you answered mine. Being a friend gives no person the right to know everything, or demand to. If you disagree with what I think is important to teach, that's fine. You can always skip those meetings. You started all this, and chose me as the teacher precisely because I have confronted Voldemort more than once. I fail to understand why you're questioning that decision now, especially as you've never made suggestions of your own for our curriculum."

"Do you really think things like this will come up on the OWLs for Ginny and Luna? Or on our NEWTs?"

Harry bit back a sigh and instead gave her a patient smile. "If you have a list of things likely to come up on the NEWTs, I'd be happy to see it. I'm hardly concerned about the OWLs, though. We all did fine, and both Ginny and Luna were with us last year, learning the same things, so I'm quite sure with some revision on their parts they'll also do fine."

"I will look into it," she said, then turned and marched off.

Harry rubbed his forehead as Neville, Ginny, and Luna also took their leave, then sighed. "Did I step into an alternate dimension when I wasn't looking?" he asked quietly, not expecting an answer. After a moment he grabbed his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. "Ron, do you want the cloak, or are you comfortable using the charm?"

Ron grinned. "I'll try the charm, thanks."

"Okay, but be careful. You know very well it isn't quite the same as being invisible."

«« :: »»

"Has she been giving you lectures for coming back after curfew on Saturdays?" Harry asked as he flopped into a chair.

Ron shrugged and nodded. "I sort of expect it, but I don't let it bother me."

"I actually think I'm angry with her now. I don't like what she was insinuating. Of course I have secrets. Doesn't everyone? Where is it written down that she deserves to know everything?"

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender as Tom sent, _:Now, Harry, for all you know she has a rule book somewhere that says exactly that about friendship.:_

"I know, mate, but. . . ."

"Do you think she blames me for the whole Department of Mysteries thing? Really, I don't get it. She insisted on coming along. You all did. No, I didn't want any of you in danger, and no, I shouldn't have gone, but does that make it my fault?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, mate. I agree, we shouldn't have gone, but we did. We all made the decision to go and no one forced us to do it. If she does blame you, then she's mental. As it is, she almost got you both killed by the centaurs."

"Thank goodness for Grawp. Well, anyway, do you want—" Harry stopped abruptly at the sound of hissing coming from his bed, and when Ron opened his mouth to speak he thrust up a hand quickly. A minute later he lowered it, a scowl blossoming on his face.

Ron, obviously confused, asked, "What was that about? And since when did you keep a snake?"

_:No, Harry, you can't kill her.:_

_:Ha ha. Know any curses that can cause laryngitis?:_ Harry rubbed his face with both hands and sighed, then looked up at Ron. "It's not exactly a snake."

"What, then? Your inflatable Malfoy target spring a leak?"

Harry grinned slightly, involuntarily, and shook his head. "Hardly. But that would make for a lovely Christmas present now that you mention it. What would you say if I told you I had a spy in Dumbledore's office? A spy that just now told me that Hermione went straight to the headmaster after the DA meeting to tell him about her"—he made quotation marks in the air—"concerns."

Ron opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned. A minute passed before he spoke, making Harry think that his friend really was thinking before he was willing to respond. "I would say that I'm also concerned, and curious as to how you managed to get any kind of a spy in his office."

"I have friends in low places," Harry said vaguely. "Look, I'm just going to be straight with you if you think you can handle it, starting with the prophecy."

_:This is much earlier than you'd planned on, Harry.:_

_:I know that, so be ready to stun him senseless if he freaks out at any point and looks like he might run.:_

"I think I'm ready. You've said my shields are quite strong, though I'm not sure how I've managed that."

Harry shrugged. "Several things, I suppose. Everyone is good at something, Ron, and you had incentive, not to mention a good starting point for this. But you need to tell me if, after I tell you, you can't handle knowing. You can always be obliviated."

"Just what the hell have you been teaching yourself?"

"You didn't think I stayed in my room on Sundays so I could relax in the bath all day, did you?" Harry gave him a pointed look. "So, the prophecy Dumbledore revealed to me." He rattled it off from memory and waited.

Ron stared at the floor for a while, then took a deep breath and said, "I guess I can see why you think you might not live through all this. But, Harry, if that's—why hasn't Dumbledore been giving you special training?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Ron. I'd love to think it's because he wanted me to have something approaching a normal childhood, but I can't quite bring myself to believe that. He only told me the prophecy because Sirius was killed. Sometimes I think it's because I was in shock already, and maybe it would take a while to sink in. Well, it didn't work out that way. Do you know what else he said? He said he had made the _mistake_ of caring more about my needs than those of the wizarding world. Sort of an explanation of why he'd kept me in the dark for so long."

He could see that Ron was struggling through the implications of that and went silent, waiting to see how his friend would eventually react. He was happy, at the least, that Ron was still keeping to his word.

"This is why you brought up chess before?"

"Yeah. Partly."

Ron gave him an assessing look. "Why did you really speak to the sorting hat?"

Harry laughed. "Are you absolutely certain you want to know?"

"Yes, so stop stalling," Ron said firmly.

"All right, you asked for it. I just hope you're still my friend when I'm done explaining. I spoke to the sorting hat because I had certain suspicions about Dumbledore. I used the excuse of Sirius and Slytherin to do that."

"What do you mean?"

"It is true that the sorting hat wanted me in Slytherin. I didn't lie about that, or about why I rejected it. It even came up again our second year and I was just as resistant to the idea. But after Sirius died, and that conversation in Dumbledore's office, I really wanted to know if the sorting hat knew anything, would tell me anything. I mean, it's in his office year round, so it probably overhears a ton, right?

"Dumbledore came to see me the day the Order brought me to headquarters. I told him I thought it might be a good idea if I made out a will. He agreed almost immediately, which I found suspicious. Then I told him, after he tried to coax me to unburden myself to him, that I still didn't understand how the sorting hat could have possibly wanted me in Slytherin, that Sirius would have hated me, how could it think that, and so on. He was the one to offer to let me speak to it."

"You made a will?"

Harry nodded. "He came back a few days later. We went to Gringotts and took care of the will. When we returned to headquarters he produced the hat, so I put it on. I found out several interesting things, the least important of which is that I am a blood descendant of Godric Gryffindor."

He waited patiently for Ron's expression of jealousy to fade, then said, "I also found out that there was a second prophecy, though I don't know the exact wording. According to that one, if I manage to kill Voldemort, I'll also die."

Ron's face immediately betrayed his horror.

Harry plowed right on and said, "And the other thing I learned was that Dumbledore never cared. He's been waiting for the day I manage it, and he's purposely let me get into all those encounters, hoping I'd off the bastard with a lucky shot of some kind, presumably whatever this power is I'm supposed to have."

_:I resent that. My father may have been a disgrace, but my parents _were_ married.:_

Harry's mouth twitched in response while wondering if he should be fetching a calming potion for Ron, who looked to be turning an interesting shade somewhere between red and purple. _:Two points for me!:_

_:Aren't we being optimistic.:_

_:Well, I try.:_

"So, are you a pawn or the white queen?"

Harry looked back at Ron and blinked. "How dare you call me a queen. Do I walk funny? Speak with a lisp?"

"_How_ can you joke about this?"

"Are you ready for the next part, or would you rather I stop here?"

Ron groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, no," he said in a muffled voice, "you go right ahead."

"Okay. There was a third prophecy."

Ron's head shot up in disbelief.

"That one was pretty odd, though," Harry said musingly, rubbing his chin. "In fact, it wasn't all gloom and doom. I mean, you could take it that way, but I didn't. However, it meant I had to learn to trust someone. Someone pretty scary."

"Please tell it wasn't Snape. I'm begging you," Ron whined.

"No," he said with a slight chuckle, "not Snape. But to be honest, I'm beginning to see he's not such a bad guy. Are you sure you want me to go on, because you look pretty awful if you'll forgive me for saying so, and you're going to be certain I'm insane."

Ron gave him an offended look. "I meant what I said."

Harry rattled off the third prophecy. By the time Ron had figured that one out Harry had managed to call Dobby for refreshments and was on his second cup of tea. So was Tom, who was openly sitting on the arm of Harry's chair.

"Who the hell are you?" was an able distraction from their mental conversation, and both looked over at Ron, who was sporting a confused expression.

"Not to be rude, but, who do you think I am?" Tom said mildly.

"Well, if you have anything to do with that third prophecy," Ron said slowly, "then you would be . . . Voldemort?"

"Sort of," Tom said agreeably, "but not really."

Ron blanched and pressed back into his chair.

Harry let out a soft sigh and said, "I distinctly remember telling him that he was going to think I was insane."

"You did, Harry. Now, how did the DA meeting go?"

"Fine, except for the part where Hermione started making insinuations. I really think that Ginny and Luna will get that charm down soon."

"I'm sure they will. And what set Hermione off, hm? Whatever it was that sent her rushing off to see the old man?"

Harry nodded. A discreet look at his friend revealed that Ron was looking morbidly interested and a little confused. "I was planning on doing transfiguration in battle next, and she thought, apparently, that I was up to something no good."

Tom snorted and had a sip of tea. "This is the same girl who, at one time, had aspirations of becoming an auror? She would do well to learn such things, then."

"Harry, am I having a particularly weird dream?" asked Ron plaintively.

"Nope. Ron, I'd like to introduce you to Tom Riddle, my soulmate." Harry honestly thought Ron was going to pass out, but he didn't in the end. He just breathed deeply for several minutes before looking back up.

"I know about soulmates," he said. "You've tested this?"

"Of course. We can speak telepathically, as well. Er, Ron, it's Tom who's been teaching me Occlumency this year, not Snape. And because he can teach it properly, I was able to teach _you_ properly."

"Dumbledore doesn't know about this, or the third prophecy."

"No, he doesn't," answered Tom. "The sorting hat was quite adamant that knowledge of these things would not matter to the old man. He would probably do whatever it took to ensure that Harry tried to kill me, and preferably succeeded."

"I do know about soulmates," Ron repeated, though his voice was a bit shaky. "I can understand, Harry, why you've done what you've done. As much as I might like to, I can't fault you for your choices. _How_ did you know, though?"

"The last vision I ever had. Unfortunately, that vision triggered something. And if you'd rather not just take my word for it, I can show you the memories. When it happened, it was like any other vision. Very painful, and I've no doubt I caused a disturbance. Uncle Vernon got very upset at that point. He'd already been doing to me what he did the summer before second year, but when the vision happened, he . . . took things a step further. It was then that Tom started experiencing things from my point of view."

"He started . . . hurting you?"

"Regular beatings," Harry said with a nod and a grimace. "And no Order to save me, strangely enough. Don't you think that's odd considering they were there to keep an eye on things? Apparently, they were only checking for people coming from the outside. If they did know what was going on, they either ignored it or reported it and were told to leave things be. I'd ask the hat again, but I've no idea how I could do that without alerting Dumbledore. At any rate, it was Tom who saved me from them."

"But you—" Ron stopped and looked thoughtful for a minute. "Your uncle made you write the letters?"

Harry nodded again. "Maybe it was so I'd be so happy to be rescued at the end of the summer. As it was, he wasn't going to send anyone for me until the last week. He changed his mind for some reason, though. I'm told that he felt uneasy over the fact that I'd never been seen outside the house all summer. I also found out that he sent my aunt and uncle a letter saying that Sirius had died."

Ron blinked and said, "But—"

Harry shrugged. "Uncle Vernon knew that Sirius wouldn't be coming to help me out. And when the Order didn't interfere. . . ."

"You're right, Harry. You didn't ask enough questions. But I guess that's beside the point. So, let me get this straight. Dumbledore isn't a saint, Voldemort isn't a problem any longer, and—"

"And you finally have a decent chess partner," Tom said.

"I do?"

Harry rolled his eyes, hoping that Ron really was taking all this all right. "And yes, in a way, Voldemort is no longer a problem. However, we aren't quite there yet. Ron, when I told you I thought I might not live through this, I wasn't being morbid. Harry Potter will die, if only to ensure that Dumbledore thinks everything went as he planned."

"I refuse to believe you're going to die, Harry."

"Harry Potter _is_ going to die, as is Voldemort," said Tom cheerfully. "But we won't."

Ron sighed and wilted in his chair. "This is too much," he said softly.

Harry waited anxiously, biting his lip, hoping that hadn't meant what it sounded like. After several minutes he said, "You can change your mind, Ron. You can forget about all of this."

"No," Ron said softly. "It's not that. I believe you. It's just so much to take in all at once. I mean"—he raised his head—"this is either a very elaborate trap, or it's the truth. Why else would I be sitting here, in Voldemort's presence, still alive?"

Tom scowled slightly and said, "I would prefer you not call me that. If you know as much about soulmates as you claim, then you would know why I was like that, and why I changed. My name is Tom."

"Then explain to me how it is that my best friend is going to die, but isn't?" Ron demanded, showing a bit of that Gryffindor courage.

Tom's expression softened to a smile. "That, my young friend, is simple, and you can thank Harry almost entirely for it. Imagine my surprise when I realized that Harry has as devious a mind as my own, and is willing to see beyond the obvious."

Ron made an impatient huff in response.

"It is possible to take on a new identity," Tom said simply.

Ron mulled over that, then shot a piercing look at Tom, then Harry, and then changed the subject. "Do you think that whatever Hermione said to the headmaster will make you seem more . . . uh . . . aware than you ought to be?"

Harry blinked slowly and dropped his gaze before saying, "He might think that, but, I did get the idea from watching him battle Voldemort at the Ministry, just as Hermione surmised. The fact that perhaps now I've chosen to get serious about things, that I've decided to research things like that, shouldn't be too big of a surprise to the old man." After a delicate pause he said, "You were right, by the way, about how much money I ought to have. As it turns out, Dumbledore never told me my vault was simply a minor trust. He also never told me I'm Sirius's sole heir."

"Then how did you find out?"

Tom answered with a smirk. "Harry was raised in the muggle world, which means those laws apply. I arranged for him to be emancipated by bribing his aunt. Once we had the paperwork we went to Gringotts. Of course, as the person known as Harry James Potter must die, we have to return so that Harry can detail what he wants done with his estates."

The next hour or so was taken up in Harry and Tom explaining the situation in more detail, with Ron becoming alternately angry and impressed. Apparently, his knowledge of soulbonds, and his promise to Harry earlier, was sufficient for him to accept what he was hearing, and accept that Tom was not, strictly speaking, Voldemort. It did not, however, make him any more inclined to have favorable thoughts about Snape, which Harry found inordinately amusing.

"We have a question for you," Harry said.

"Yes," Tom said in the next second. "Now that you understand, we would like to know if you would consent to help."

"In what way?"

Tom flicked his eyes heavenward, then said, "Well, it seems to me that as Harry's best friend, and brother of sorts, that were you to be captured, naturally Harry would recklessly race off to rescue you, and in the process, manage to kill Voldemort in his excessive anger."

Ron stared at Tom for a moment, then grinned. "Yeah, he would. Harry is kind of stupid that way."

Harry gasped in outrage and chucked a cushion at his friend. "I resent that."

Ron grinned again, then sobered. "Harry, I can understand why you wouldn't want to tell Hermione. I know she would never accept this, and after the things she's said, even if she did, she would try to convince you to do things differently. I'm fairly certain that she would try to paint the headmaster in a much more flattering light. I'm not saying that I think he's the Light's version of Voldemort, but I do think he's made a lot of mistakes. I don't think Hermione could or would understand that. I expect she would go straight to Dumbledore with whatever you told her."

Harry and Tom both nodded. "I don't like that he's lied to me all these years, and used me. Things could have been so much different. That's why we choose to disappear and start over. You'll be the only person who'll know besides Snape, unless Remus can be convinced. He's very loyal to Dumbledore, for understandable reasons, so I honestly don't know how he would react."

Ron shrugged slightly. "So what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Once we have all the details finalized, we can move forward. The hardest part is getting the people in Azkaban set up. That reminds me. . . ." Harry turned to Tom and said, "Did those dementors ever, er, die?"

"That's a good question. I've had so many other things on my mind that I hadn't thought to look recently." Tom concentrated for a moment, then asked, when Dobby popped in, "Would you do me a favor and retrieve the sphere from my desk, please, Dobby?"

"Dobby is being happy to." The elf popped out and returned a minute later, holding out the requested object.

Before the elf could disappear again Harry said, "I'll probably want you again in a bit, Dobby. I'm not sure how long, but I'll need you to return Ron to Gryffindor tower when we're done here."

"Of course, master," Dobby said, then popped out.

"You must have been laughing at me when I suggested Dobby watch over you the other night," Ron said a bit ruefully.

"Maybe," was all Harry would say before giving Tom an intent look.

Tom activated the sphere and looked into it, motioning for Harry and Ron to come closer.

"Ugh," Harry said a moment later. "Tom, I really think you should just leave things as is. If they're still, er, alive, I'm not sure I want to know how long it will take, and I don't fancy anyone having to breathe that air."

A very pale Ron nodded his agreement.

Tom deactivated the sphere with a flick of his wrist and tucked it away in his pocket. "I'm inclined to agree. That will have to remain their tomb. At any rate, when the time comes, you, Ron, can be captured, so to speak, and Harry can go charging off after you. The so-called final battle can take place, the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord can die, and all will be right with the world."

"Well, either Ron gets captured, or it appears so. You might come in for far too much in the way of questioning if you were actually there. Occlumency won't prevent you from being interrogated by overzealous Ministry officials," Harry pointed out.

"So use polyjuice. I'll hang out in the Shrieking Shack or someplace, knocked out. If you had good enough proof, shouldn't that be all it took? The same for Remus, assuming he falls in."

"I'm sure we can think of something that would suit."

Harry nodded, then rose and went to kneel by Ron's chair. "I don't want to ask this, but. . . . Please, Ron, don't betray me, don't turn against me. I know right at this moment you're okay, but once you've had a chance, alone, to think, I just don't—"

Ron covered his mouth and cut him off. "I understand. And yes, I do need to think, but not for the reasons you believe." After removing his hand he continued, "I need to think about how to react to others. I need to think about how I'm going to shoulder the burden of this knowledge and keep it safe. Harry, I meant it. I did some really stupid things myself, and I won't repeat them. I also promised you I would think things through before I went off half-cocked. I really think I'm starting to understand, even if just a little, how much pressure you've been under all this time, and how much courage it took for you to open up to me. I won't betray you. You've done nothing but be my friend, even when I've been a complete ass about so many things. I'd have to be a fool to turn my back on that. Hermione is going to be difficult. Now that I know, I want to be able to spend even more time with you, but I'm not sure how."

Tom cleared his throat and said, "Dobby can help. He can always bring you down here after you've retired for the evening and take you back later on. No one would need to know you've gone elsewhere. And, if possible, you can certainly join Harry and I during some of our lessons. Occlumency has already had an effect on you, and I expect that you've been finding your studies and classes easier, no?"

Ron nodded, so Tom went on, "You could begin to show yourself as being more studious, though that might have the effect of Granger being thrilled over the change and demanding more of your time. However that works out is up to you, ultimately. Still, something can be worked out. You just need to remember that there are only two safe places for you to speak freely, and that's here or the Chamber. I would not trust even the Room of Requirement."

Harry sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Tom, would you teach him now how to detect monitoring charms? If the old man gets suspicious, he might get nosy. If Ron is being tracked, he can't risk coming down here, and I'm not sure it would be wise to remove it."

"All right, but what do you suggest?"

"If that happens . . . . You have any more of those portraits, or could get more? Dobby could place one in Ron's bed like he did mine. Even though Ron can't understand snakes, he could speak to me that way so long as he put up the appropriate charms. And Ron, I want you to be really careful. Malfoy still has it in for me, and with allies from other houses, he might use them to attack me, or you, or anyone who's friendly with me."

While Tom was teaching Ron, Harry was checking the Marauder's Map to see where Hermione was. Given that she was still in the common room when his friend had got down the spell, Harry quickly devised a plan to divert suspicion.

"Look," he said, tapping the map, then, "Since she's lurking, I'll ask Dobby to pop you into the boy's bathroom, okay? You can wander down the stairs with some excuse—maybe you thought you left something in the common room—and surprise her. She'll think you got back before her, or without her noticing, and you can always wonder out loud at what she's still doing up. It doesn't matter so much if she's suspicious. I'm quite sure she'll have been keeping an eye on the portrait entrance, so you wouldn't have got past her that way."

"Sounds good."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	26. Callidus

* * *

**— 26: Callidus —**

* * *

"Before I call Dobby, though, I'm wondering about something. I have been awfully reclusive on Sundays, I know, so I have no idea what it is you normally do on those days."

"You mean aside from practice? Not much, really. Homework, playing around." After a pause he continued, "Yeah, Hermione is usually around then."

"It's a shame the girls can enter your dorms whenever they want," Harry commented. "Well, we'll figure something out. Let's get you back before she decides to give up and go to bed. It's way later than normal. And, Ron, I know it sounds crazy, but start checking for tracking charms every so often. Better to be paranoid than caught."

«« :: »»

Harry folded his arms behind his head and said, "Do you suppose there's some rule that says you can or cannot visit in another house's common room or dorms?"

"I think if there is, it would be prefaced by something or other that said members of the house must agree on it."

"I don't suppose I'd be finding that in _Hogwarts: A History_, then."

"I spoke with Narcissa. She has agreed to take her holiday in France. I also asked her rather more than she is presently aware of, though I admit it was a bit forward of me. As it turns out, she is completely indifferent to her husband's plight. She is more concerned with what will happen should Lucius die and leave Draco in control of the Malfoy fortune."

Harry lifted his head and sent a mock stern look at Tom. "You've been a very naughty dark lord."

"I know," Tom said gravely, "and I shall agonize over it for . . . at least a second or so."

Harry relaxed back and stared at the ceiling. At least she would be out of the way, and presumably Snape already knew to speak to Malfoy. He still had no idea how to finesse the situation with Ron, though. Granted, he certainly had no desire to give up his Sundays entirely, but he did want for his friend to be able to visit more often, more easily, without arousing suspicion.

That he already came on Saturday evenings after DA lessons was enough to cause Hermione's ire to rise, though he severely doubted she knew exactly where he was meeting up. Possibly she thought they stayed in the Room of Requirement. Of course, Ron also had prefect duties to handle, which cut into his free time.

In point of fact, Dumbledore might already be aware that Harry was sneaking Ron in. If indeed the Room of Requirement was 'bugged,' he would have been informed of their conversations and could have drawn his own conclusions. He had no way of finding out, and it continued to frustrate him immensely that he could think of no manner in which he could get at the sorting hat a second time.

Even if he could get into the office, one of the portraits would notice and squeal on him, and to have it removed briefly would likely result in the same. Switching mental lanes, he wondered if Dumbledore _would_ call him in for another meeting.

"What are you pondering, Harry?"

He rolled his head to the side and said, "Mostly frustration. This place is like one huge prison. I'm not sure I can stand the idea of waiting until I take my NEWTs. They won't matter anyway, since they'll be for the wrong person, and I'd never even see the results. My only regret would be that I'd leave Ron alone for an entire year here."

Tom tilted his head to the side, then straightened. "Perhaps not. There is nothing to say you could not live here in the Chamber, or even Hogsmeade, or that Ron could not visit with Dobby's help whenever he wished. Given his position, it would not be beyond reason that he might become somewhat reclusive once his best friend 'died,' thereby leaving him with more time to himself."

Harry crinkled his brow. "I suppose that's true. I also suppose, that if we're obscenely wealthy, I don't particularly need to worry about test scores. I can just find something I'd like to do and do it. I could even go learn the things I would have learned in school in the muggle world, and take tests there. I admit, I never tried very hard then, because Dudley would get upset at me showing him up."

"There is certainly that option. There are plenty of things you could do, Harry, that wouldn't require you to provide test scores. For example, if you felt like setting yourself up as a wand maker or a broom designer, test scores are somewhat irrelevant."

Harry smiled softly, then said, "Speaking of wands. . . ?"

"I'm working on it. I've tracked down several applicable books, for one thing, and I do have contacts in other countries that can make custom wands. Parts of that basilisk may yet come in handy."

Harry got the distinct impression that Tom wasn't being entirely forthcoming, but let it pass with a nod. If he was holding something back it was quite likely that he had a very good reason for it. "Are you any good at pranks, Tom?"

"Since when do dark lords play pranks?"

"You're not without a sense of humor, Tom, and besides, you could be the first. I was thinking that with Halloween safely out of the way, maybe we could have some harmless fun. Include Ron and Blaise as well."

Tom gazed at him curiously and slid off his chair, down to the floor. "I already know you aren't thinking of telling Blaise, so I might have to be that little voice in the back of your head during planning sessions, hm?"

"Yes, but . . . I was also thinking that you're the only person out of us that can easily, and without notice, pop off to muggle shops and the like."

"Something tells me that you aren't thinking of simple tricks like colouring peoples' hair for a bit, then."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"What, then?"

"Well, nothing really malicious, but nothing that seems so obvious. I was thinking of muggle shops because they would have things we don't. And we might be able to get some ideas from that world. The fact that we have a house elf in our pocket. . . ."

"Then perhaps we should discuss this while we're waiting to head to the bank, hm?"

«« :: »»

Their trip to the bank was quiet and unremarked, much like the last time. This time, however, Harry had ready his letter from Greltack, which he handed over to the first available teller without a word. Within a minute he and Tom were being led back down that seemingly endless hallway and into the office from before.

Greltack arrived within moments of their guide leaving and took his seat with a nod of greeting. "What can I do for you today, gentlemen?"

Harry and Tom both inclined their heads, then Harry said, "First, I would like to ask if you would be willing to take on the mantle of estate manager for my combined estates, sir. I'm sure if you were to agree that we could work out a suitable salary for such, and if not you, then I hope you could recommend someone who could provide me with service as honorable as yours is proving to be."

Greltack did a slight double take, then smiled. "I am quite sure we could work something out, Mr Potter. I would be honored to accept. If you like, I could have the paperwork drawn up now, though it would take a few minutes before it was ready to be signed."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Greltack gave another nod and wrote out a short note, then placed it into a basket on his desk marked "Out." Then he looked back up and said, "What did you have in mind for changes to your estates?"

Harry opened the satchel he had used to transport the original documents in and pulled out a new sheaf of papers, then placed them on the desk and pushed them forward. "I have worked out a way to split the investments according to who I would like them to go to on my . . . death. This should allow for self-sustaining accounts to be created, either now or then, whichever, that would provide the beneficiary with a lifelong income that doesn't infringe on the capital. I thought you could look these over and tell me if this is possible or not? That is, possible, yet still allow for quarterly statements which make it seem as though nothing has changed."

"Of course. I shall peruse these now, though I do not foresee a problem with what you're trying to accomplish."

Harry spent the next few minutes idly tracing the patterns on the walls with his eyes, and asking Tom privately if he had any idea if they meant anything. Tom's response was to offer to look up some books on goblin history, ones that were not better used as sleeping aids.

Greltack looked back up and said, "I see no problems. As you have made your splits within each distinct estate, I will be able to easily compile a report for Dumbledore which will leave him none the wiser. I would presume, however, that in keeping with privacy, those reports would not be stamped with the customary symbol which denotes an attached will."

"Correct." Harry assumed Greltack asked out of courtesy and not because the goblin thought he was too stupid to have considered it. "That leaves one other matter," he said as papers appeared in Greltack's inbox.

"The remainder of the combined estate."

"Yes, since any properties have already been noted in those bequests. I need to know my options for placing that money elsewhere. Since I am given to understand that you are not in any way required to show the contents of a will, I would hope that it would not be a problem to move the remainder to a new vault, or vaults, for the final benefactor."

"And what name will you be going by, Mr Potter?" Greltack inquired smoothly.

Harry held his breath in surprise, then exhaled with a gust. "Remind me to add extra to whatever salary we agree on as a bonus, Greltack. You are indeed perceptive." After a pause in which he cleared his throat he said, "I have not yet decided on the exact name. Is it possible to create the necessary vault or vaults without one?"

Greltack smiled slightly and inclined his head. "If we were to do so, I would request that the key, or keys, be bonded to you personally. That way there would be no question as to the rightful owner when the time comes."

"I don't object to that. Your salary can be taken from the new vault, and if you do not object, I would like to you stay on as the manager of that, or those, after the . . . change . . . has occurred, even though for now there will be no investments to worry about. Whether the beneficiaries would like to retain you for their own will be their decisions, of course. How long do you think it will take to arrange things?"

"I should think about a week, Mr Potter. Once we have worked out our agreement, all matters pertaining to your estates will come to me and me only, so you need not fear that another goblin will take this as an opportunity to, shall we say, use the information for their own benefit. They will only know that a manager has been retained." When Harry nodded he took the papers from his inbox and said, "Shall we negotiate, then?"

Harry let Tom argue that one with his much greater experience in financial matters as ammunition. Eventually they settled on a figure that was agreeable to both parties and Harry added on a small additional percentage as a bonus amount. From there they moved on to Harry's original will.

He dissolved that entirely but for one thing, the bequest to the Dursleys. Harry would not have been surprised if Dumbledore checked on that. Of course, he could inveigle other recipients to reveal how much they had received as well, or even overhear them talking, but no matter what, by then it would be too late.

Greltack wrapped things up by saying, "Very well, Mr Potter. If you will be so kind as to return in a week, we can finalize the details on your new vaults. The keys for the bequest vaults will be held here in trust until such time as it is necessary for me to send the recipients notice of their inheritance. The only other matter I can think of at this time would pertain to the true quarterly statements."

"Please don't owl them. Either I will come to pick them up, or send a representative."

Greltack gave a significant look to Tom, then turned his gaze back on Harry.

"I realize my companion admits to no name. I'll have to think about that, I suppose. I'll continue to use the minor trust for owl orders for now." Harry paused and thought things over, then said, "As we're done for the moment, could we be shown to my vaults? I'd like to see for myself what's in them aside from money. The inventory was rather vague in some respects."

"Certainly. I will guide you myself."

Much later Harry and Tom returned to the castle with a trunk full of goodies. Clothing, furniture, books, and much more were hauled from the trunk gleefully as Harry rambled on about where he'd like to put things within the Chamber. After several minutes of indulgent listening and nodding Tom said, "You know, we should probably do something about Myrtle's bathroom. Or at least the entrance there."

Harry stopped dead and looked up in surprise and not a little worry. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, we don't need that entrance, and it might be foolish to leave it in any kind of a useable form. I realize that only a parselmouth can open it, but, it seems to me that with enough effort, a determined person could blast apart that entire structure and get in anyway. It was only safe so long as it wasn't known. And it has been for years now."

"Um, okay. Then what do you suggest?"

"There is already a collapsed ceiling in the tunnel. We could make that a more permanent feature. As well, consider filling much of that side of the tunnel. . . . Maybe I'm being too suspicious."

Harry shrugged and dropped to the floor. "I don't know. Wouldn't it be simpler to place the entire structure under a Fidelius Charm? Though it is technically a part of the school, it also isn't. Or, create a set of diversionary tunnels that bypass the inner door entirely and lead people around in circles?"

Tom looked thoughtful at that, then nodded. "Perhaps both," he said, then raised a hand to rest on his chest. "Severus is signaling. Do you mind if he joins us?"

"Of course not."

«« :: »»

Snape accepted the usual glass of port and sat down, sipping before he decided to speak. "I have had a little chat with Draco as you requested. He seemed quite keen on the idea."

"Very good. Has he mentioned anything about his latest plans to get at Harry?"

Snape shook his head. "Not yet, but I get the distinct impression that he has something in the works. Whatever it is, he must be practicing discretion, since I doubt you would be asking otherwise. However, I also implied that perhaps having been given this particular task, he ought to be looking ahead rather than wasting his time on petty revenge schemes as the Dark Lord would no doubt eventually dismiss his actions as childish, and possibly decide that he, Draco, was not mature enough to be of much use to him."

"Whoa," Harry said, "thanks, professor. Maybe with that running through his head, and the knowledge that he will be in his seventh year next, he may focus on congratulating himself for becoming Voldemort's lead here at the school and trying to consolidate his power with his new comrades."

Snape inclined his head, not deigning to speak.

Tom rubbed his hands together briskly and smiled at Snape. "Very nicely done. So that you know, I have nearly finished my machinations with Lucius's Dark Mark. Once I have him set, I can move on to the others with more speed and finesse. I think I can safely say that we will be able to move at the school year's end."

He glanced over at Harry, who immediately said, "As I said before, this place is like one huge prison. If not the end of the school year, then shortly after. There might be benefits to me returning to Privet Drive first. You've already proven that the blood wards are a joke. It might come as a shock for the old man to learn that as well, and may be a blow to his pride that he never seemed to have considered it the way we did."

Tom nodded. "I could always leave a suitably nasty note behind. Of course, once we both end up seemingly dead it will be a moot point, but still, there ought to be no doubt as to how you disappeared. I would suggest coming to get you in the guise of your uncle, but the Order might have people detailed to follow you home."

"Erm, Tom," Harry said slowly, "you don't suppose that Aunt Petunia will do something silly like take that money and disappear with Uncle Vernon and Dudley, do you? They might not be there for you to control into coming to get me."

Snape looked up sharply at that. After seeing a faint nod from Harry, Tom said, "I was able to bribe Harry's aunt into securing emancipation papers for him so that we could go to Gringotts and set about dealing with Harry's financial situation. While the amount of money was only a fraction of what I command, it was rather a lot for people in their position. You're right, Harry. I would do well to check up on them. If they decide to disappear, I shall have to make arrangements."

"Such as quietly purchasing the property?" suggested Snape.

"Yes."

"There's also the issue of Mrs Figg," Snape said.

"I will check tomorrow, then. Assuming they have not already left, I will have to persuade them to remain for now. I doubt I could keep the watcher satisfied long term. I should also persuade them to not do anything conspicuous, such as fling about their new wealth."

"What do we do if they've already gone?"

Tom sighed and shook his head. "I really don't know. I take it back; I will go check now, discreetly. Please excuse me." He rose and strode off quickly.

Harry looked down at his hands for a moment, an idea hitting him full force, then bravely looked his professor in the eye and said, "Sir, I'd like to apologize to you for so rudely invading your privacy last year. I know it was wrong, and I knew it then, but. . . . Well, it really doesn't matter why I did it. It was a horrible breach of trust and I'm ashamed of myself that I did that to you. I certainly don't blame you for calling off the lessons, and I was too much of a coward to own up to what I'd done. I'm not even sure what I expect to come of this, but I do know it's right to admit my failing, and offer to make it up to you if you'll let me."

There was a long silence, and Harry continued to look at Snape, though not in a challenging manner. Eventually, the man spoke. "Potter, I am interested to know if you learned anything from the experience."

Harry blinked and dropped his gaze to the side. After opening and closing his mouth several times he said, "Actually, I'm sort of grateful in a way. It was a good thing to learn that my father was just human, with the same faults as anyone else. So often I've heard about what a wonderful man he was, and perhaps he did become that, mostly, but still, he was every bit a child then and it showed. It was painful to realize that he could be just as nasty as my cousin or even Malfoy. I still don't know how to feel about people comparing me to him. I never knew him, so how do I know if it's a compliment or not?

"I still wonder sometimes if Sirius saw me as a smaller James, you know? At least I can console myself with the knowledge that I try, at least, not to provoke others as he did. Maybe it's because I grew up the way I did, as someone else's whipping boy. It also helped me to see Sirius as more than just a savior, and Remus as a more complex person. He must have been afraid of what his friends might say if he tried to assert his authority. I could see that he was ignoring things on purpose and I think he was worried that if he tried to intervene his friends would turn on him.

"As for you, I can certainly understand why you might have hated them, all of them. One, or two, cocky, arrogant gits who saw nothing wrong with humiliating someone so openly, one who vicariously enjoyed his friends' behavior when he probably would never dare himself, and one who couldn't bring himself to do what he was entrusted to do. I know it was only one incident, and I know it's not the whole story, but it still said quite a bit.

"It was also the only other time I've ever seen my mother." Harry smiled softly. "She could be quite ferocious, I guess. I can sort of see myself in her. She stuck her nose in where it wasn't wanted either. If for no other reason, I'd be grateful for that. The only other memory I have of her is when she died, and that's hardly pleasant. . . ."

A few heartbeats after he trailed off Harry heard Snape murmur, "Apology accepted."

Harry let another minute pass before he said, "Sir, I found a number of interesting books in my vaults, some of which were Potions related. I don't know if any of them would be useful to you, but you're more than welcome to go through them and borrow whatever you'd like."

"So noted. Now, as I've finished my drink, I would like to return to my quarters. Once you have finished sorting through your new acquisitions I will find the time to go over them."

"Of course, sir." He called Dobby and Snape was gone within moments, though the elf returned as he had requested.

"What is master wishing?"

"I was just wondering, Dobby, how things have been going for you. We haven't really sat down and talked for a while."

"Dobby is being fine. Dobby is. . . . Dobby is having a friend at Master Tom's home he is visiting regularly."

"Oh?" Harry grinned. "Is this a lady friend?"

Dobby gave him a sidelong look, then said, "Dobby's friend is being called Crest."

"I'd love to hear all about her, if you feel like telling me," Harry prompted.

By the time Tom returned several hours later Harry had heard a great deal about Crest and Dobby had long since left to resume his normal duties as a Hogwarts house elf. He was still smiling fondly when Tom took a seat. "What happened?"

"Neither of us considered the fact that your cousin is still in school. So yes, they are still there, and I made sure they would remain. I'll simply have to swing by every few days to reinforce that idea, and that they should live within their normal means for the time being."

"Uncle Vernon is quite proud of Dudley going to his old school Smeltings," Harry commented with a curled lip. "By the way, Dobby is getting on famously with one of your house elves. I wouldn't be surprised to hear about baby house elves soon. You might want to tell Crest that she has your approval."

"Well, well, I shall do that directly. I trust you had no difficulties with Severus? I did leave rather abruptly."

Harry flashed him a slightly sheepish smile. "Er, yes. I apologized to him, actually."

"And did he accept?"

"Yeah, but not until I told him what I'd learned from it. I didn't push or anything, but I did offer him free use of the Potions books we brought back. I don't know if I should be surprised or not that he didn't take me up on my offer to make it up to him."

"I think . . . that perhaps he has seen enough in the past few months to have possibly changed his opinion of you, Harry, such that it would not occur to him to take advantage of the situation. But, that is only speculation on my part."

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "It's all right. It's high time I found the courage to apologize, and it doesn't matter if nothing really changes. I did the right thing and I was sincere in it. I would be happy if he's simply not my enemy."

«« :: »»

Harry stepped out of the Potions dungeon with Blaise beside him and made a beeline for the Room of Requirement. They'd been loitering in the hall for all of thirty seconds when Ron arrived, just in time for the door to appear. Glancing around quickly to see if anyone was there to notice, the trio slipped inside and flopped into seats.

"What conditions?" Ron asked curiously.

"Mm. Rather like the first time. I asked for a place where no one could find us. And"—he glanced around the room for a moment—"where no one could listen in, though I'm not sure if that would work properly."

"So what's with the cloak and dagger?" asked Blaise.

Harry slung a leg carelessly over the arm of his chair and smiled. "I was thinking we ought to celebrate. Halloween this year was surprisingly normal. No trolls, no mysterious messages in blood. . . ."

"Celebrate?"

"Sure! I'm going to make the bold and totally unwarranted assumption that this year will be different." Harry paused to snicker, then said, "So in honor of that willful delusion, I propose that we three have some fun for the rest of the year to liven up the sometimes dull and boring school routine."

A glance at Ron showed that his friend was very amused, though Harry couldn't tell if it was simply that he had been manipulating the truth or not. "However"—he sent a stern look at Ron—"it would mean that we all are very proper students and get all our work done before we do such things."

Predictably, Ron groaned. "Harry," he whined.

"Ron, look. I don't care if you pretend to be irresponsible, so long as you aren't actually. I mean, who's going to suspect you of anything if your marks are on the rise? Obviously you've been finding time to revise better, and you'd be able to prove your knowledge in class and on tests, so no one could accuse you of cheating, either. And, you'd have the satisfaction of knowing that even if you were always publicly moaning over the work you have to do, you would have the work done and all that time left over to be a bit creative."

Ron crinkled his brow and glanced at Blaise, who raised his brows in a kind of shrug, then set his bottom lip and looked at Harry. "This use of logic and reason has got to stop, Harry. I find it quite scary."

"As amusing as this is, you still haven't really explained celebrate and having some fun," Blaise objected.

"Oh, that's simple. I thought we could play the occasional practical joke, that's all. And no, Ron, I don't mean with stuff from your brothers' shop. First, their stuff is banned, and second, if we tested anything experimental, people would look to you and me first anyway. However, if we came up with anything interesting, I suppose we could give the idea to the twins."

"If we're going to do this," said Blaise, "I would propose certain rules. For one thing, staying out of the house areas. Common room and dorms, I mean."

Harry nodded and added, "Nothing inherently malicious, and I don't think we should be avoiding our own houses, or even ourselves. The surest way to get caught sometimes is to never be the one pranked."

"Maybe if we make it random?" Ron suggested.

"Then maybe Malfoy should never be hit," offered Blaise with a grin.

Harry furrowed his brow, then nodded slightly. "I can think of several reasons not to hit him. The fact of the matter is, he'd generally be my first target according to most, so he's better off left out. And if it casts suspicion on him, oh well. It might not always be easy to manage, though."

"Sounds good. But do we even have any ideas yet?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "I do kind of have one off the top of my head. I saw something silly once, but I didn't really like how it worked. It gave me an idea, though. What if we were to randomly replace forks, and maybe spoons, on the house tables so that when you tried to use them, they bent under any weight?"

Ron looked horrified at the prospect of being denied food, but nodded.

"A delay?" said Blaise. "People could use them for several minutes, then they start flopping around."

"Are we going to have a name? You know, like your dad."

"I wouldn't think so. Having a name makes it tempting to use it," said Blaise.

"We could still have nicknames, though I'm not sure what we'd base them on. It isn't like we're illegal animagi like dad and his friends were."

Several minutes later Ron said, "Latin words for attributes? Harry could be Fortis, Blaise could be Astus or Callidus, and I could be Quaero."

"Since when do you know so much Latin?" Harry accused.

Ron flushed lightly and hunched for a second. "Mum."

"Astus, then." Blaise mock saluted and grinned.

"So I'm brave and courageous?"

"Aren't you?" Ron made a face at Harry. "The closest I could think of to strategic or strategy was plan, so that explains Quaero."

"So be it. But we can't use the names in public."

"Harry, how exactly do you plan on tampering with that much tableware?" Blaise had his head tilted to one side and slightly back.

"I have friends in low places," he said. While he could point out that Dobby was his friend, he didn't want to, since if questioned, the elf would deny everything, even to Dumbledore. Ron knew, of course, but Harry would bet that his friend would keep his mouth shut. "It's more important that we figure out the spells we'd need."

"Then we should head to the—" Blaise began, only to be cut off by a shake of Harry's head.

"The room might be able to provide. If not, then the library, sure."

«« :: »»

On the walk down to Hagrid's class after lunch, Harry and Ron stayed well away from anyone else, and had even left a bit early. "So what happened Saturday night?"

Ron made an odd noise and hefted his bag more securely over his shoulder. "She was surprised when I came down the stairs. I acted sleepy and clueless, though. She went to bed almost immediately after that."

"She didn't say anything about going to Dumbledore, then?"

"No. Not even at breakfast. I'm not sure she dares after I've made it clear I support you. I expect she wouldn't because I'd be sure to squeal to you the moment I could."

"Mm. Yeah. Well, I hope you would." Harry flashed a grin as he found a spot to take a seat. "Listen, I've been thinking about what I said earlier. It doesn't matter if she or anyone else thinks you're irresponsible about your work, so long as you _do_ do it. On the other hand, you could use the periods you have free, like when I'm in Potions, to take care of your assignments. I don't have to do all of mine in my room, as well. If she happens to notice us being studious, that's fine, and it might help along the way when you disappear at odd times and she doesn't know where you are. It's even better if we randomly pick places to work."

"Well, yeah," Ron said with some reluctance, "I guess so."

"And, with your recent training, it should be easier anyway. A well organized mind does wonders for memory retention, for one thing. You shouldn't need as much time now, and that leaves more time for other things, right?"

Ron sighed and plucked at the grass. "All right. I'll"—he grimaced—"behave."

Harry clapped him on the shoulder and grinned broadly. "Thanks, mate. And you'll see, it won't be so bad. I promise." A second later he looked around in surprise when Ron sucked in his breath sharply and went pale. "What?"

"Hagrid," Ron choked out, and pointed.

Harry raised himself up a little and squinted. "Is that. . . ?"

"One of Aragog's children, yeah. I think I'm gonna be sick."

After class was over Harry helped a still pale and rather wobbly Ron back up to the castle, and in fact, straight to the library. "The sooner you get this done, the better it will be. Then you can forget all about this horrible experience," he said soothingly, hiding his very real amusement at the situation.

"That should never have appeared in class," Ron said in a tone that was a curious mixture of firmness and fear. "You don't bloody care for them, you run like hell!"

"Would have made for a fun Defense essay, eh? All you need is a bewitched Ford Anglia on your side," Harry said cheerfully as he guided Ron into a seat, then took one himself.

Ron's head shot up, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and chuckled.

* * *

**Note**: For those who are curious, the original prank idea involved telescoping silverware, such that you could steal food from other people's plates at a fair distance. Obviously, that wasn't such a grand idea for the HP universe, but it did spark the idea I actually used once I'd thought about it for a while.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	27. One Beginning

* * *

**— 27: One Beginning —**

* * *

As it stood the next few weeks were fairly quiet. The only things of note that happened in Harry's opinion were the Gryffindor/Slytherin game—Gryffindor won, but not by much—and his visit to the bank on the tenth. There he received a single key which was blood bonded to him, and a piece of jewelry which was bonded to Tom in case he ever needed to act as Harry's representative.

Tom's only comment was that he would be pleased, in the end, to rid himself of the ring and pendant currently being used as signals, as he was building up more of a collection than he wished of jewelry he thought did not flatter him. This latest piece was another ring, but at least he had been able to pick something from a provided selection.

Of course, Ron was being true to his word and getting his work done as soon as possible. He and Harry were picking places at random, Blaise often joining them, to write out their essays or practice. After researching what spells they would need they experimented on cutlery they had liberated from dinner and eventually came up with something they were satisfied with.

Though, while they were waiting for the right day to spring it, they continued to consider more ideas.

By the time the next Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, Harry knew he needed to pick a date for Ash's birthday if he intended to try to find him something while shopping and not have it be late. So it was that he and the others headed out Saturday morning after breakfast, making the obligatory stop at Filch to be checked off.

Filch gave him a darkly sneering look and shook his head. "You, Potter, no longer have a valid permission slip."

"I'm sorry?" Apparently with the death of Sirius, his permission no longer counted.

"Bad luck, Potter," he said insincerely, smiling wickedly.

Harry blinked slowly just as McGonagall arrived; apparently she was also on duty that day. "Is there a problem?"

"No, professor. I was just somewhat surprised to hear my Hogsmeade weekends were being denied."

She peered at him for a moment, then looked over at the list. "I see."

"However," Harry continued, "I don't see that there's a problem."

"I'm not sure you understand, Mr Potter," said McGonagall. "Your—"

"My guardian provided me with a new form this summer, just in case something like this should happen," Harry said smoothly and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. After handing it over to the professor he waited.

"I see," she repeated. "This seems to be in order." She turned to Filch and nodded, then back to Harry. "You are doing all right?"

"Yes, professor. Thank you for asking. Maybe later on I could speak with you about Transfiguration? Some advice? Or maybe even about how Gryffindor won the first match."

She appeared slightly startled, then almost smiled. "Of course, Potter. Enjoy yourself in Hogsmeade, but be watchful. Stick with your friends."

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned and stepped away to let others be checked out. It had been really quite sagacious of Tom to get another permission form signed, just in case. It had been bad enough his third year being shut out, and it wasn't as though he could openly claim his emancipation.

A short time later they were traipsing down to Hogsmeade, pulling their cloaks more tightly around them to ward off the chill. They went through every shop, though after milling about for quite some time in Honeydukes, Harry had to forcibly drag Ron out. It was not much better at the book shop with Hermione. Harry spent a fair amount of time himself browsing the shelves in search of something for Tom, but finally decided it was most likely a useless endeavor considering how many years Tom had had to build his collection.

Lunch at the Three Broomsticks was somewhat tense. Hermione was all for heading back up to the castle to start in on another round of homework and revision, but the young men were having none of that. Harry, and certainly Ron, had heard her oft repeated refrain on the nearness of the NEWTs so many times since the year had begun that he sometimes swore he could hear it wafting out of empty corridors and classrooms.

It was while he was looking through the selection at one of the smaller, more eclectic shops that he finally had an inkling of an idea, and on the heels of that promising start, Harry purchased a half dozen kits to take back to the school with him, then convinced Ron to go with him back to Dervish and Banges. One more stop at the book shop and Harry had everything he needed, more or less. Naturally, he had quietly occluded his mind during the whole thing.

That evening, since they were not having a DA meeting, Harry trailed off after McGonagall. Once he was comfortably seated in her office and had an open biscuit tin in front of him, she spoke. "So, Potter, what do you think of Gryffindor's chances this year for the quidditch cup?"

"Well, I think that Ginny makes for a fair seeker, though it might be a bit rough. Ron, of course, is doing fine. I think experience will continue to make a difference as time goes by, though I'm not sure of the effect this year. The others, though, I just don't know. It's pretty awful when you've got to deal with replacing over half the team, and I can see where it can be extremely beneficial when you're able to stagger the years playing, or even host reserves.

"I'd say Gryffindor's chances are fair. Slytherin also lost a number of people, but I'm not so sure about Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It's quite odd, though, sitting in the Slytherin stands while rooting for Gryffindor." He flashed her a cheeky grin and took a biscuit.

McGonagall sighed and reached for one herself. "It is a shame. Mind you, I never said this, but I did have you pegged for captain, though that is not to say that Mr Weasley is doing a poor job."

"It's funny you should say that. Blaise also thought I would make a good captain, but I knew that would never happen the moment the hat turned the world upside down. Well, I would have thought it had it been in any way important at the time. But I think it's nice. Ron gets a bit of responsibility over something that's important to him, that he'll want to do well at, and be motivated for. And I'm not sure I would have made a good captain. I just like to fly. Avoiding the other players and the bludgers while doing so just makes it more interesting."

She gave him another of those looks that might be mistaken for tight-lipped annoyance, but he could see that she wasn't. If anything she was probably torn between losing her star seeker and the knowledge that Slytherin didn't have him either. "And are you getting on down there?" she asked in a tone that brooked no lies.

"I really am, professor. Blaise is quite nice for one thing, and since I have my own room it's much easier to revise without interruptions. I think my marks are improving, actually. No one really bothers me if I don't count the looks I get." He leaned in quite close and whispered, "I think even they're scared of Professor Snape."

She made a slight huffing noise and changed the subject. "Now, regarding Transfiguration—you said something about advice?"

Thankful that she hadn't reprimanded him for his slight jest he said, "Yes, I did. I've been doing a bit of research into transfiguration in dueling. I must say, seeing Professor Dumbledore in action at the Ministry was both terrifying and enthralling. I don't think it ever occurred to me you could use it like that, and it makes the subject so much more interesting. It was an eye opener once I had a chance to really think about it. Frankly, I'm surprised there aren't combined classes on some level with Defense. Or, are there?" He gazed at her, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

After a short pause in which she gazed back narrowly she said, "Yes, and no. As far as a standard education goes, there isn't much call for it, I'm afraid. At least not on a practical level. It is something you would learn during auror training, Potter."

Harry heaved a gentle sigh and nodded. "It just seems like, when I take the time to really think about it, that everything is interconnected. Summoning charms to move something in the way of a curse, transfiguration or conjuring to block a spell, and contact potions could be used if thrown. Even apparation to disorient an opponent for the time it took them to re-locate you."

He dropped his gaze for a split second, then looked up and said, "I confess, at times I've honestly failed to see the use in some spells. I mean, transforming a match into a needle hardly seems useful unless you've lost a button. Then again, I suppose one must start small and work upward to higher complexity, and obviously, complexity would be hard if you have not or cannot master the base principles."

"I think," she said in a slightly abstracted tone, "that you would make a fine auror, Potter."

"Mm. I suppose time will tell, professor. Do you have any advice or suggestions as to books I should read, though? I know it'll be some time before any of it would be of real use, but I'd still like to learn more. I've already purchased some books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and those are quite intriguing as well. It's a shame I didn't pick them as electives back then."

Harry got the distinct impression that McGonagall was sucking on a sour lemon judging by her suddenly pinched expression, but that surely couldn't be the case.

_:Harry, it is possible that Dumbledore shared his knowledge of your supposed fate with her, which could explain why she looks almost . . . guilty.:_

_:You could be right.:_ He reached for a second biscuit as she slid some parchment over in front of her and grabbed a quill. _:Honestly, I was more thinking I could divert suspicion off me by bringing it up with her than fishing for information about things like that. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she mentions this conversation to the old man.:_

_:If she does, we may hear of it. Of course, it could also be possible that she fears for you independently.:_

McGonagall handed Harry the parchment. "Here is a list. All of this should be available in our own library, but if you feel the need to research beyond that, come see me and I will suggest books you might wish to purchase, Potter."

"Thank you, professor. I really appreciate this." He folded the list and tucked it into his pocket with a smile.

"Well, you run along, Potter. I may no longer be your head of house, but you're always welcome to come talk to me if you feel the need."

Harry nodded and smiled, then took off in a fairly cheerful mood. He found Ron loitering at the staircases and grinned. "What's up?"

"Since we aren't having a meeting, why don't we, er, go hang out?"

Harry thought for a moment, then nodded. "Why don't you go grab your bag and meet me at the kitchens. I'll get some butterbeer for us."

"Right."

Ron jogged off up the staircase, so Harry headed off to talk to Dobby, who was more than glad to produce several bottles of butterbeer. Ron burst in a few minutes later with a bag slung over his shoulder, so Harry yanked it open and slipped the bottles in.

After saying goodbye to Dobby they left, taking one of the shortcuts on their way back up to the ground floor that bypassed the need and landed them on the dungeon side instead. By then Ron had disillusioned himself and was moving very carefully so as not to attract attention by his passage into Slytherin and to Harry's room.

"This would be easier if we knew an invisibility spell," said Ron once they were safely inside.

"I know. I suppose I could always ask Tom. Speaking of which, are you interested in seeing the Chamber?"

"You mean—is it—?"

"Well," Harry said quickly, "I could mean that. There's more to it than just, er, where I found Ginny. Nothing to be alarmed about, honest. If you'd rather stay here, that's fine."

"No, it's okay."

Dobby was happy enough to take another break to transport them, though Harry had him drop them in the main Chamber rather than the library. Ron spent quite a while walking around, finally ending up gazing at the odd staircase.

"Tom made that."

"What's up there?"

"It used to be the basilisk's lair. Part of it, at least. But there's more up there than just that. I think you'll like it." He tripped up the stairs lightly and into the mouth, not waiting, but pausing in the lair for Ron to catch up. "The tunnels lead to different, smaller chambers. What we want is the third, the library."

"You have your own library? Oh, wait, you did mention something about that before. Let's see it, then."

They walked in on a conversation between Tom and Snape. Wisely, Ron remained silent as he took a seat. Harry perched on the arm of the chair Tom was using, nodding at Snape in greeting.

Snape heaved a sigh and aimed an irritated look at Ron, clearly not happy to see him there, or that he himself had been present. "I trust that Mr Weasley is not under the influence of a monitoring charm."

Ron shook his head.

"We checked before we came, sir," Harry said. "I'm going to show Ron the dueling room." He stood back up and motioned to Ron, then strode off down the tunnel and into a different one.

«« :: »»

"Weasley?" Severus pointed an accusative forefinger at Tom. "How do you know that boy can keep his frequently gaping orifice shut? I'm certain you know what could happen to me if he decides to audition for the role of Judas. Or if he inadvertently plays snitch the second he stops thinking or suffers another bout of jealousy."

"Harry is too important to him. He won't do or say anything that would jeopardize Harry's situation. I was there, Severus. Harry is the only real friend Ron has. The Granger girl is so pedantic that neither of them can truly relate to her, or her to them, and neither trusts her with the truth. Nor do I."

"And you're _so_ sure he'll remain silent," Severus drawled.

"Please trust me, Severus. Even if you can't bring yourself to trust them, trust me."

"Yes, of course. And if the boy talks, and I'm confronted by Dumbledore in his office?"

"Then all of it stops, all the subterfuge. Dobby jumps you out of there, down to here."

"Yes, and my life stops. Just like that. I'd never be able to show my face again, Tom."

"I would do whatever it took to set you up, Severus, but it won't come to that."

"You had better be right," Severus said tersely. "I don't plan on dying now, Tom, and certainly not for the sake of a boy who can't remember his loyalties."

Tom sat back and chuckled, casting an amused glance at his friend, then laughed when Severus realized what he had said. "Ironic, is it not? Severus, if you have anything to hide, hide it, either here or some other safe place. But it will not come to that. Trust me as I trust you."

«« :: »»

"That was uncomfortable," Ron commented, then looked around the new room. "Hey, this is pretty neat."

"Yeah, Tom set it up, though Dobby did quite a lot as well."

"What else is down here?"

"Several things. Some of it is living quarters."

Ron turned his head slowly and stared at him intently. "Living quarters. Really." He took a deep breath. "So, Harry, is there something else you might want to tell me?"

"It's up to you, Harry," Tom broke in.

Harry swiveled around to see his bonded leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He rolled his eyes. "Ron, maybe you haven't seen it yet, but this place, this school, this life, is like a prison for me. I have a grand total of four people I dare to trust. I don't know if I can stand the thought of being here much longer."

"What exactly are you saying, Harry? Just when are you planning on . . . on dying?"

Harry moved into a slow shrug. "Honestly, we were considering over the summer. It wouldn't endanger you, either. But I'd still be here next year, Ron. Either here in the Chamber, or in Hogsmeade. And Dobby could jump you to see me, us, whenever. I wouldn't be gone."

Ron looked fairly uneasy at that pronouncement, even a bit pale. "You aren't leaving me."

"No, Ron. Even after, I'll still be right nearby."

"Wouldn't this be more comfortable back in the library, or the lounge?" Tom suggested.

«« :: »»

Tom was even more convinced of Ron's sincerity after living through the last few minutes. The boy had sounded almost desperate, and Tom was very much not inclined to believe in any way that he was any kind of an actor in those moments, and certainly not of that magnitude. Even with his prowess at Occlumency he was comfortable enough around Tom so as to not be on his guard. His intentions were effectively transparent. In his opinion, Ron took his promises seriously.

_:Harry, Severus is concerned, but I believe I have settled him for the moment. I would like if you would ask Dobby to be on call, though, in case Severus needs his help in an emergency. It is only a precaution, nothing more.:_

_:Concerned about Ron, you mean.:_

_:Yes. Will you?:_

_:Of course I will. I don't want Snape to get any more jittery than he needs to be, and preferably not at all.:_

"Uh, guys, could you stop thinking at each other?" Ron was looking faintly annoyed at their silence.

Harry smiled sheepishly and took a seat. "I'm sorry, Ron."

"I as well. We should know better than to be so rude. Sometimes it is easy to communicate that way without realizing it, but I admit, in this case, I did so knowingly. My apologies."

Ron flopped onto the ground and sprawled before the fake fire. "All right. I can accept this, even if I don't like it. Maybe it is silly. It's not like I'd die if you disappeared, but I sure as hell wouldn't be happy about it."

"I know. I'll still be here, Ron, I promise. You won't abandon me, and I'm sure as hell not going to abandon you. I'll just be a different me, that's all. Please believe me."

"All right, all right. I believe you. The only thing I've ever really known you to lie about was the Occlumency lessons," Ron said wearily. "But I want _proof_, Harry. I want to know when it's about to happen, and I want proof, damn it, once it's over, if I can't be there."

"You'll have it, I promise." He paused, smiled slightly, then said, "I could have told you it was just because Tom is living down here, but I didn't."

Ron rolled over onto his stomach and propped his upper body up on his elbows. "So what did you talk to McGonagall about?"

"Transfiguration, among other things. I asked her for a list of books, and she gave me one, though she did say that I wouldn't normally learn the kind of stuff I wanted until I was in Auror training. But really, I went because I figured I might be able to head off whatever damage Hermione might have caused by running straight to the old man."

"Think she bought it?"

"We're pretty sure she did."

Tom arched a brow and said, "She seemed almost guilty. I don't know if Dumbledore shared his vision with her, but she might suspect that Harry will not live through this war. If it is not the former, I think I've gained new respect for that woman. She was . . . a contemporary of mine."

"Yeah, but don't you ever wonder just how much he tells her?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he told her next to nothing," Tom said. "Or if he did, it might not have been factual. I never took her for the kind of woman to knowingly condone child abuse, for instance."

"I certainly hope not," Harry said. "I'd hate to think she's so far in his pocket that she'd be so cruel. I know she's strict and. . . . Not that, though."

"I guess not. Obviously, nothing has been said this year or your spy would have mentioned it, right?" Ron rolled over onto his side and stared at the fire. "Do you have one down here? I mean, you're down here a lot, right, Tom? What if something urgent came up and Harry wasn't in his room? Here's a stupid question—is it possible to carry one on you and still have it able to report? Do they _need_ to be on a wall to work?"

Tom and Harry exchanged a look.

«« :: »»

Five minutes into dinner on Wednesday the first stirrings of disharmony occurred. A third year Ravenclaw squealed in surprise when the food on her fork suddenly tipped off for no apparent reason. Harry and Blaise looked up at the sound and then at each other. A few seconds later a first year across from them experienced the same problem, resulting in a lapful of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy.

Within five minutes students all over the Great Hall were making noises of surprise and confusion as food went everywhere. Of course, not everyone was affected, but as people saw their neighbors in trouble they started abandoning their utensils.

Harry gave a philosophical shrug to hide his amusement and abandoned what was on his plate, reaching for foods that could be eaten out of hand instead. A discreet look across the hall showed that Ron had done the same, though his shirt was splotched. He really thought it had gone off well, and so did Blaise to judge by his face, but it would have been even better had more students been affected. Luckily, soup hadn't been on the menu; someone might have been burned.

Professor McGonagall, he noticed, kept giving him sidelong looks, but made no move to leave her seat to speak to him. Harry made the assumption that she either suspected him of the prank, or was worried about his future. He very much doubted that she would raise either issue with him anytime soon, though. Harry decided not to worry about it—either it. He had more important things to do, and without Tom catching on.

«« :: »»

The next evening found Harry curled up in a chair in the library reading one of his Arithmancy books. When Tom wandered in from whatever he had been doing Harry looked up and smiled, then set his book aside on the table. "Hello."

"Harry." Tom inclined his head briefly and took the other chair. "How far along have you gotten? I know you wouldn't still be reading those if you were bored with the subject."

"Quite far. I don't think my money has been wasted. Whether or not I use the knowledge is beside the point. It's been enriching to learn. But, I have something more interesting to do at the moment."

Tom arched a brow. "And that would be?"

Harry smiled and rose, then summoned a large package to his hands. "That would be this. Ash Riley, on the occasion of your birthday, 21 November, I would like to present you with a gift." As an aside he said, "I did say scorpio. You were born in 1977, by the way." He deposited the package in Tom's lap and sat back down.

Tom gave him an amused look and nodded. "So, I'm nineteen? Rather, Ash is. So be it." Then he looked down at the carefully wrapped package with curiosity and began pulling off the dark green paper. "No card? I'm shocked."

Harry snorted and replied, "It's not like you attached a card to mine."

Once unwrapped Tom stared at the resulting boxes in some bewilderment, then opened the one on top. "Puzzle pieces?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to shop for you?" Harry complained. "It wasn't until I went to Hogsmeade that I got an idea. Customized jigsaw puzzles. I'm sure you can figure out from some of the pieces what each is, but you'll have to put them together to be sure. Since I know you like them, that's what I did. Besides, I already told you one of my best ideas, and I know you bought those books." Harry scrunched up his face a moment in mild regret.

Tom looked up with a delighted smile. "This is wonderful, Harry. Thank you." He sorted through the pieces for a few moments, then said, "You've been sneaking around behind my back."

"Yup! And Dobby was a willing accomplice, so you can thank him, too. I think he's become rather fond of you."

"I will be sure to do so," Tom said as he replaced the cover. "I will investigate these further later. But for now"—he set the boxes on the floor beside his chair—"I think I should thank you properly."

"Didn't you just?" Harry asked with an innocent smile.

"Heavens no. A simple spoken thank you would never suffice for such a thoughtful gift. Most people—well, most people wouldn't. Most people would have presented me with something ostentatious and even ridiculous, or horribly dark. Nothing that I, now, would enjoy. So I really _must_ be properly grateful."

Harry snickered as Tom stood up and came over to pull him out of his chair, and let himself be led off to the bedroom as his bonded commented, "I think a massage would do nicely for a start, don't you?"

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	28. I Didn't Know

* * *

**— 28: I Didn't Know —**

* * *

Harry shook his head violently. "No, this may be like a prison, but there's no way I want to go to that house for the holiday. It's even worse. I'm signing up to stay here. I can't trust that Dobby can jump me out without being seen, and even if he could, there's always the chance some well-meaning person will come looking for me and sound the alarm when they realize I'm nowhere in the house."

"Then I can expect a joyful holiday."

"There is no way in hell I can face another holiday locked up with mum without you, Harry," said Ron.

Tom made a slight face, so quickly that Harry wasn't sure he had seen it. _:Now you behave, Tom.:_

_:So long as we get time for ourselves, of course I will.:_

"I don't know if the old man will try to interfere, but . . . I really don't want to go there. The fact that I own it and I'm not even supposed to know that makes it worse."

"And, perhaps if he does," said Tom, "you can trot out the fact that Hogwarts has been the only place you've ever considered home, and how you really prefer not to leave it during the holiday."

"Mm. I guess it doesn't matter."

"I'm not sure I understand." Tom rose to pour himself another glass of port.

Harry exhaled heavily. "If I went there, it isn't like I'd be able to talk to Remus freely, and I sure as hell wouldn't be able to have you present, Tom, to help me if things started to get out of hand. I have to talk to him here. Anyway, I don't understand how the old man could interfere. No matter what, Aunt Petunia is my legal guardian in their eyes. Sure, she can't do much about magical matters, but this isn't one, not really."

Tom shrugged and sat down, taking a sip before saying, "We'll see. Now, once I finish this and we're done chatting, let us move on to learning the proper way to turn oneself invisible, hm?"

«« :: »»

Tom worried his lower lip between his teeth, then cast an uncomfortable look at Severus. "Something's been on my mind of late, ever since Harry apologized to you, actually."

Severus shot him a wary look, but remained silent.

"I hate to say it, but if Harry were to ever ask me who the spy was who reported the prophecy to Voldemort, I'd be in a very awkward position, and that's a place I sincerely do not wish to be."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he said firmly. Tom spared a glance for his friend, then went back to contemplating the fire. "To begin with, I don't think it's my place to tell him. Secondly, that it was you means the conversation would become awkward very quickly. He would know I was being evasive, and begin to wonder why, and possibly figure it out on his own. Even if he thought, up until that point, that it had been Peter, he would know better by then, as I would have no qualms about speaking were that the case."

"So you're asking me to tell him."

"I'm asking you to consider it." Tom looked at him curiously. "Severus, feel free to tell me to sod off, but, is part of the reason you've been so cruel to him not so much because of his father, but because you feel guilty?" When Severus did not speak Tom continued, "I know that you are an intelligent man, and that despite how much Harry resembles his father physically, you know he is not the same person. Of course, it might be that if he knew, he would place the blame for their deaths as much on you as on Voldemort. Perhaps your unremitting anger stems from that weight."

"Don't psychoanalyze me," Severus snapped.

"I suppose you might also be concerned that he would start asking questions you don't wish to answer, such as why you joined Voldemort in the first place."

Severus sneered at him, then said, "What do you think he would do?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. It's even odds that he might start yelling or even hexing you. Then again, he might decide to think it over before reacting. You did, apparently, accept his apology, after all. Though, if I recall correctly, you asked him what it was he had learned from his mistake."

Tom was mildly surprised to see a look of regret pass over Severus's face.

"I cannot change what happened, Tom."

"No more than I can change the fact that I was his parents' killer."

"That may be so, but I am not the one soul bonded to the boy. He has no incentive to listen to whatever I might have to say with any degree of patience or deliberation."

"Severus, please don't misunderstand me, but I'm not sure I understand why it matters to you."

"Because of you," Severus snapped. "Against my better judgment, you've managed to make me see the damn brat as an individual. Fine, call the Daily Prophet and inform them that I, Severus Snape, made a mistake. The boy isn't his father, and torturing him will do nothing to appease my anger over what happened in the past. I've done nothing but provoke him since the moment I laid eyes on him and take delight in having the power to slap him down for the slightest excuse. In the end, it means nothing aside from the fact that I hadn't let go of that past. Yes, Tom, you were right. Potter has a brain after all. A very good one, in fact. He is as much a Slytherin as you or I, no matter how much it pains me to admit that. I. . . ."

Tom smiled internally. "I would have to disagree slightly, my friend. I think it was Harry himself who showed you he is not his father. All I did was provide the opportunity for him to do so." He tapped the arm of his chair for a few moments and added, "Severus, if you wish, I will tell him myself on your behalf."

"Oh, and isn't that cowardly," sneered Severus.

"Perhaps, or you could view it as your self-preservationist tendencies coming to the fore," Tom said with a chuckle. "It is up to you, certainly. I shan't say a word if you would rather I did not, but I will help if that is your desire."

"And which do you think is wiser?"

Tom shrugged. "Part of me says for me to broach the subject and part of me says he might very much appreciate that you did it yourself. I could"—he paused to rub his chin thoughtfully—"tell him there is something you wish to speak with him about, and to please promise to think whatever it is over before he reacts. That would clue him in to the gravity of the situation without revealing anything specific."

Severus sighed again. "Fine. Soon, then, before I lose my nerve."

«« :: »»

Dobby had just delivered lunch and popped out, and Harry had just taken a sandwich from the pile and bit into it when Tom said, "Harry, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Harry's head shot up, his eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sound of that, not at all. Perhaps it was the diffident way Tom had spoken, but he got the impression that it was anything but casual in nature. He gave a wary nod and continued eating, hoping that whatever it was, it wouldn't spoil his meal.

"Remember when I asked you to back off on your reflexive reactions to Severus?"

Harry narrowed his eyes even further.

"Now don't look at me like that. I'll make this short and simple, all right? There seems to be something that Severus wanted to tell you. All I want from you is a promise that you will think carefully about what he has to say before you react. That's nothing more than you've already agreed to do, more or less."

Harry cast a slightly incredulous look his way and said, "I see. And you felt it necessary to give me that little reminder? Obviously, one or both of you feel that I'm not going to be happy about whatever this is. I suppose that means you aren't going to give me any hints, either."

"I'm afraid not, Harry. I think you'll understand why when you've spoken with him."

Harry got the impression that Tom wanted to say more, much more, but was holding himself back. Whatever it was it had to be bad if Tom felt he needed to ease the way. It couldn't be an apology for the way he had been treated. Harry just didn't see how something like that could conceivably make him angry. He also had trouble seeing Snape apologizing for anything—to him, at least.

So what could it be. What would be likely to make him angry? The only thing he could think of offhand would be the Occlumency lessons the previous year. Or was it that Dumbledore was requesting to sit in on one of their supposed lessons? He doubted it had anything to do with the upcoming holiday. This sounded uniquely connected to Snape himself. He shook his head absently and reached for another sandwich.

He got through that and two more before another word was spoken. "And when do you expect him to be confiding in me?"

"Possibly today. He did say something about wanting to see those books you had mentioned to him." Tom rose and came over to straddle Harry's legs, settling his weight before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Harry's neck.

Harry snorted softly, but figured it must be fairly serious if Tom was acting so oddly. It could be that his bonded was actually worried on his friend's behalf, worried that he might react badly enough so as to drive the man away. "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Then I hope you aren't using sex as a way to—"

"Harry," Tom said sternly. "I may merely be a mostly reformed dark lord, but I am not a complete imbecile. I asked, you seemed to be agreeable. That matter is over as far as I'm concerned. _This_, however, is a new matter entirely. If you aren't in the mood. . . ."

"Then you'll back off, I know. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I had to ask, I'm sorry."

Tom shrugged and smiled. "It's not so surprising. We're both Slytherin after all. One must be alert for ulterior motives." He shifted slightly and teased at the back of Harry's neck with his fingers.

"You're incorrigible," he said, then leaned forward to capture Tom's willing lips.

A moment later Tom pulled back and said, "I think you mean insatiable," then leaned in for another kiss, this one almost bruising in intensity.

Harry luxuriated in the feeling of battling tongues for some time before he pulled away to say, "I think it doesn't matter," then used the chair as leverage to propel Tom backward, onto the floor, with him on top, and begin to assault his bonded's neck with his teeth, his hands sliding up under Tom's shirt.

Tom responded by pulling at Harry's shirt, pushing him away long enough to get it pulled up and over his head before running his nails down his bonded's exposed skin. "We could take this to the bedroom," he said roughly, arching his back.

Harry licked a trail up to Tom's ear and nipped the lobe, then whispered, "Then we wouldn't have this lovely fake fireplace. What's the matter, Tom, is the floor too unyielding for you?" His bonded growled and bucked his hips at the implied insult, though Harry could tell he wasn't really offended. "I guess not. But you know what I'd like?"

Tom stilled and arched a brow, so Harry rose to a kneeling position, then stood and extended a hand. Once his bonded was also standing, Harry began to divest him of his clothing while saying softly, "I would really like it if you'd sit down in that nice chair, or maybe on the sofa, and let me ride you."

Harry's clothes were off his body almost before he knew what was happening and had been dragged over to the couch, where Tom sat down with alacrity and pulled him down so that Harry was straddling his legs. He grinned and slipped his glasses off, tossing them to one side, then leaned in for another bruising kiss as Tom fumbled for his wand off to one side and hurriedly cast a spell before letting the smooth cylinder of wood clatter to the floor.

Harry groaned at the sensation of slick fingers entering him and pressed closer, then allowed himself to be lifted enough so that he could sink back down to be impaled slowly, wincing at the pain that accompanied a not so thorough preparation. They continued to kiss as he adjusted, Tom's hands roughly gripping his hips, then Harry began to move. Seconds later one hand slid forward to reach between them as Tom slouched further down and adjusted the position of his legs for better leverage.

«« :: »»

Harry was happily draped over Tom's sweaty form, seriously considering dozing off, when Tom jerked slightly and muttered under his breath. "What's wrong?" he asked sleepily.

"Severus is signaling."

Harry shifted and licked some of the sweat from Tom's neck, then snickered. "Well, I am in an awfully good mood all of a sudden. I suppose I don't care if he comes to visit, though I think you might want to freshen the air a bit before you send Dobby after him."

Tom chuckled and ran his hand over Harry's back. "All right. Why don't you hunt out those books just in case."

"Mm." Harry slowly pulled away, though he much rather would have stayed, and got to his feet, wincing again as he stretched and tried to figure out where his glasses had gone. Spying a blurry something that might be them, he stepped over and crouched, taking the familiar shape into his hand and slipping them on. "Maybe I should consider contact lenses," he said, then released his wand into his hand so he could cast a cleansing charm over himself before getting dressed.

"If you wish. They would certainly be better than being half blind on a regular basis." Tom finally located his own wand and was casting away, then taking a good look around the room to see if anything was obviously out of place or amiss. "We could always go one Sunday to a shop. When was the last time you had your eyes checked, anyway?" Then he stopped and gave Harry a piercing look.

"What?"

"Just a thought. I'll have to look into it before I say too much. I could be mistaken." He turned away to get dressed as Harry shrugged and headed for the book cases. "It's just that if we knew what was causing the problem, it might be something you could correct with metamorphmagy, that's all."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder in surprise. "Please."

Tom nodded and concentrated, then addressed Dobby. "Would you please see if Professor Snape would like to visit, and jump him here if so?" Dobby nodded and popped out, returning a minute later with Snape in tow, then disappeared. "Severus, hello. Would you like a drink?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder again to see Snape nod and take a seat on the couch. He quickly looked away to hide his expression over the professor's choice of seating and took a deep breath before rising and turning. "Hello, sir. In case you're interested, those Potions books I mentioned are all in this case, though there might be other things that catch your eye as well."

Snape inclined his head briefly and took the offered glass from Tom.

"If this is private, I can go practice in the dueling room," Harry offered.

Snape hesitated, then shook his head. "No, Potter, this concerns you."

Harry crossed over to the bar and hunted out a bottle of butterbeer and opened it, then took a seat in one of the armchairs. It was then that he noticed Tom had slipped out like a ghost, unseen and unheard. Harry graced the professor with an attentive look and waited.

"There are certain things I doubt you are aware of, Potter, even now. The headmaster would not have told you, presumably to protect the privacy of those involved. In this case, myself." Snape took a sip of his port, as though he were steeling himself with liquid courage, and said bluntly, "It was I who overheard that Trelawney woman speak the prophecy's beginning, and the one who went to the Dark Lord with that information."

The bottle in Harry's hand shattered, causing him to look down in bemusement at the mess. Harry wrinkled his nose and exhaled heavily, then stood up and crossed back over to the bar. After vanishing the broken glass and liquid and getting a new bottle, he resumed his seat. "I'm sorry, I don't always have control over my magic. Was that all, professor?"

Snape cast an odd look at him, wary and suspicious. "I believe I owe you an apology, Potter."

Harry could feel his jaw clench and relaxed it immediately. He honestly wasn't sure how he should respond. It was certainly true that having told Voldemort the prophecy more or less guaranteed that his family would have been in danger either way. Tom had said he had intended to kill both the Longbottoms and the Potters because of it. But, if he could look past the murder of his parents based on fate, would it be wrong of him to throw back this man's words?

He dropped his gaze and took a sip of his butterbeer, then tilted his head. If he did, it would most likely be pure spite that prompted it, and he had promised Tom he wouldn't act on his first instincts. He had assumed it was Peter, but now that he thought about it. . . . Peter might have simply been shadowing the old man in rat form, hoping for tidbits to take back to his master, but it was also possible that it had been around the same time that Snape had been looking for a position at Hogwarts. After all, he could not remember how long the man had been teaching for.

He looked up with something that may have approximated a smile and said, "All right. I would be happy to hear what you would like to say." He knew it was very possible that Snape would not explain anything at all. As it was, Snape confirmed his suspicion almost immediately.

"At the time I was under orders to seek a position at Hogwarts and followed Dumbledore to the Hog's Head with the hope of speaking to him. It was then that I managed to overhear the beginning to the prophecy. Of course, I was discovered, and did not hear all of it, but that was enough for me to take back to the Dark Lord. In that sense, I am as responsible for the deaths of your parents as he is. I also realize that my apology will do nothing to change what happened, but I offer it still. I thought you deserved to know the truth."

Harry had another sip and gazed at the fire. He could demand to know more, but that might not be wise. As of late, he and the professor had actually been getting along, and while he did not think Tom would explain if asked, perhaps he could reason things out for himself.

Snape had been giving him a lot of odd looks recently and had been more or less civil. Sure, part of that had to be at Tom's request, and part had to be connected to the house credo. But . . . it had not been until the day that Harry had learned to look through Tom's eyes that he had noticed any real or deeper change in the man. Was it possible that Snape finally was seeing him as a person in his own right? Not just a mocking copy of his father? Was it possible that Snape felt . . . guilty?

He blinked and looked back up. "I appreciate your candor, professor. Apology accepted. I don't suppose after you've looked over my collection that you could make suggestions as to others I might add?"

Snape appeared to straighten, then nodded. "I would be willing to do so."

_:Tom? I think it's safe to come back now.:_ Harry produced a somewhat tight smile. "I admit, even with being able to concentrate now, I still find Potions to be a little confusing." He then smiled genuinely as Tom breezed in and flopped into a chair.

"That was one hell of a workout," he said cheerfully.

Harry did a slight double take, then laughed. "I'm glad you can keep up with me."

Tom glared at him halfheartedly, then smiled. "This from the person who was all set for a nap a short while ago?"

"I think I've been insulted." Harry turned his nose up and looked away, then stood. "Just for that, I'm going to go amuse myself without you." He gave Tom an insolent mock salute, then nodded at Snape and stalked off down the corridor.

«« :: »»

Tom darted a curious look at Severus, then said, "I trust things went well?"

"I believe so. That is, unless you count the one bottle of butterbeer which shattered."

Tom frowned and scratched his forehead. "I didn't feel a thing. Sly little devil—our lessons must be working out better than I realized if he's blocking me out reflexively in moments of stress."

"Be that as it may, he is now aware of the truth, and has accepted my apology. He also refrained from digging for information, which I find mildly surprising."

"Well, Severus, I did say he's Slytherin, but I'm not sure he is to the point that he'd go looking for blackmail material on you."

Severus's eyes briefly flickered toward the ceiling. "I am merely pointing out that he acted with admirable maturity. I also think he still considers you his protector, for it was not until you came back that he relaxed."

Tom shrugged, unwilling to comment except obliquely. "He's none too fond of authority figures. That alone would cause problems."

Severus made an irritated noise in his throat and had a sip of his port. "What you are so kindly trying not to say is that as I am still his professor, he feels compelled to be respectful of that, and that so long as I hold any power over him, he will continue to be tense and wary in my presence."

Tom inspected his nails for a moment, then looked over. "You aren't exactly little Mary Sunshine, either, Severus. However, does it matter in the long run? I'm not saying whether it should or not. I'm not going to second guess your motives, either. I do think that if what you just said holds any meaning aside from the obvious that you would already have some idea as to direction."

The sound of a explosion rolled in down the corridor, giving both men pause for thought. Tom blinked and said, "Hang on."

_:Harry?:_

_:Er, sorry. Who knew dry ice would react so violently to a simple levitation charm?:_

"What the—?" Tom threw up his hands, then rubbed his temples. "It's nothing to be concerned about, Severus, I think." To Harry he sent, _:And are you all right, or do I need to come over there?:_

_:To be honest, I'm not sure. I think I'll just come back and you can see for yourself.:_

Harry walked into the room shortly thereafter, looking a bit worse for wear. "I didn't know, honestly."

Tom shook his head and waved one of his hands in negation. "I thought you went off to practice, Harry, not mess about with that dry ice. Now come here so I can look you over."

Harry slouched over sullenly and dropped onto the floor with a slight wince. "All right, so my head hurts a little."

"I'm sure it goes splendidly with the cuts on your face. Hit by flying shards, were we?"

Harry raised a hand in confusion and touched his face.

"You had better be all right, Harry. I don't think you want to try explaining this to Madam Pomphrey." He shook out his wand and ran a few very simple scans, then tucked it away again before glancing at Severus and rolling his eyes slightly. Tom concentrated and a moment later Dobby popped in; luckily, as he was standing behind Harry, he could not see the damage and react. "Dobby, would you be so kind as to pop into the stillroom and pick up a potion for headaches, and a salve for healing minor cuts?"

Dobby frowned, but nodded, and popped back out.

"I saw that," said Harry.

"I'm surprised," replied Tom. "Your glasses are skewed fairly badly, so how you can see anything properly is beyond my ken." Dobby popped back in and placed a bottle and a jar on the table, and after being thanked, disappeared. Tom picked up the bottle and unstoppered it, then handed it to Harry, snatching it back after his bonded had taken a sip and placing it back on the table. Next came the jar; Harry suffered silently as his face was daubed with salve.

"I'm sure you'll live, but you'll have to reapply this in a bit. You should be grateful Dobby didn't see. You'd never see the end of his fussing."

Severus had apparently lost control over his curiosity given his question of, "Dry ice?"

Tom set the jar aside and partly covered his face as Harry turned to look at the professor. After straightening his glasses Harry said, "Have you ever heard of it before, sir? I suppose it's strictly a muggle thing, then. It's solidified carbon dioxide—what we exhale—generally used to refrigerate things, especially during shipping."

"And your interest?"

Harry bit his lip and glanced at Tom, then shrugged. "I was afraid you'd ask that, sir. When dropped into hot water it produces a really nice, sorta creepy fog."

Severus immediately held up his hand. "What I don't know. . . ."

"You can appreciate in private," said Tom with a smirk, then asked Harry, "And when were you planning on being amusing?"

Harry narrowed his gaze, then said, "That depends on whether or not you obtained the stuff we need."

"Soon, soon. Perhaps over the holiday we can mix up a batch and test it." Tom grinned and lifted one brow. "Though, at times I begin to wonder if it was wise to buy you those muggle chemistry texts."

"Too late," Harry said cheerfully, "though maybe from now on I'll conjure up a shield first." He bounced to his feet and said, "I have to go find some dragonhide gloves. You aren't supposed to touch that stuff with your bare hands," before dashing off down the corridor again.

"What is he up to?" Severus demanded as soon as he was out of earshot.

Tom chuckled and secured the lid back on the jar, then stoppered the bottle. "Just some harmless pranks, Severus. Pranks that target everyone equally and are more creative than anything I've heard of done here in years, except for perhaps the Weasley twins."

"So he was responsible for that fiasco in the Great Hall."

"Yes, but I'm quite sure you'll forget that salient detail the moment you leave the Chamber, am I right?"

"Of course. I should know better than to ask questions I might not want the answers for." He rose and headed toward the case Harry had indicated earlier.

«« :: »»

After suffering through a lecture on the draught of living death, Harry and Blaise shot off from class toward the Room of Requirement, or Roary's as they had come to call it, meeting up with Ron and slipping inside.

"I got a letter back from Fred and George," said Ron as he slumped into a chair. "They loved the idea. Said they're going to start making them and putting them on the shelves."

"That's brilliant. I'm not sure they'll have much use for this next one, though," said Blaise, "except perhaps for Halloween parties."

"Were you able to get the stuff yet?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Just some of it. The rest will take a little longer, but I expect maybe we could plan it for the morning after everyone comes back from the holiday. We would have to get up early that day, though. But with all three of us working on it, it should be all right. Just one warning, though. I found out the hard way that you do not want to try to levitate dry ice. It explodes for some reason."

Blaise gave him a curious look, then laughed. "I suppose it's a good thing no one heard, then. But, are you all right? You look fine."

"Yeah, I was more surprised than anything." Then he furrowed his brow and gazed up at the ceiling. "Bet that'd be a shock for a Death Eater if a bit of that stuff got in the way of a spell, eh?"

"That assumes it's just more than levitation that affects it," Blaise pointed out.

"True." Harry shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. I just wonder if it has anything to do with it being an inherently unstable matrix, unlike a gemstone, perhaps, and magic forces it apart rather than being reflected or passing through, that's all. We just have to devise a better way of lowering the stuff into the water when the time is right without using magic directly on it."

"Then let's discuss that," suggested Ron.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	29. Scoping

* * *

**— 29: Scoping —**

* * *

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Hermione and the others were safely in carriages headed for the station. Blaise had also elected to go home, but sternly told Harry and Ron that he expected at least one letter from one of them regarding their upcoming prank situation during the holiday.

"You realize, of course," said Harry as the carriage pulled away, "that I have no idea what to get anyone for Christmas."

Ron wrinkled his forehead and shrugged. "I'm not exactly the best person to ask."

"Yeah, but. . . . Well, let's go back." He arched his brow and pivoted, then strode off toward the entrance. Once inside Harry headed for the staircase to the kitchens, then ducked into the secret passage with Ron right beside him. When he emerged on the other side he appeared to be alone as he headed into the Slytherin common room, and from there to his bedroom.

Ron faded back into view and flopped into a chair as Harry called for Dobby and requested some drinks, then took a seat as well. "It's just . . . we could owl order and all that, but I don't think that would work out very well for certain people, like your parents."

Ron shook his head and said, "Mum and dad won't care, Harry. The fact that you thought of them would be enough."

"Maybe so, but it's still nicer to get people something they can appreciate. I mean, your mum loves to knit, so maybe yarn? I can always get your dad something muggle-ish again." He paused as Dobby popped in and handed him and Ron each a butterbeer.

"When is Remus supposed to be here?" Ron asked as Dobby popped back out.

Harry shrugged and had a sip of his butterbeer, trying to look more casual about that than he felt. "Tomorrow, I think. I expect he'll come with us. He'll just have to look the other way when I get something for him, if I can figure out what."

"And just how worried are you really?" asked Ron shrewdly.

"I don't know," he replied softly. "We aren't exactly close, you know? Sure, he was one of my dad's best friends, and Sirius's, but that says very little for me. It helps that he supported me without question when I was re-sorted, but I don't know how much that actually matters. If he's Dumbledore's man. . . ."

"Can't you sound him out first?"

"Sure, but I guess I'd have to think about what specifically." Harry tipped his bottle back and forth indecisively. He would have to be very careful about what he chose to say or ask while outside the confines of his room. And on that thought, he blinked and summoned Dobby.

"Master is needing something?" Dobby asked expectantly.

"Yes, I do." Harry gave the elf an intent look, then said, "I was wondering something. A few things, actually. Do you know which room Remus will be in?"

Dobby nodded so Harry continued, "Would you do me a favor and check to make sure his room is secure and keep an eye on it, like you've been doing for Professor Snape?"

"Dobby is being happy to."

"Thank you. Just make sure you don't get caught." As soon as Dobby popped out he looked back at Ron and made a slight face. "That's the whole question, right? Just how confident is Remus in Dumbledore? Maybe I have a unique perspective because of who I am, but if he can't conceive of something more than what the headmaster sees, it'll be too risky to say much to him."

"Yeah. But just how upset are you going to be if that happens?"

Harry busied himself with sliding his fingers through the condensation on his bottle, then said, "I'm not sure, honestly. With you, I would have been really hurt. Remus, though, I've barely spent any real time with. When he was here before, none of us knew until the end, and then he left. After that we saw him, what, a few times here and there because of the Order? This summer has been the most time I've spent with him, and even then I was left alone a lot. His letters have been all right, though. I just don't know. But I do know that if he can't be trusted, or he refuses, that we'll have to be very careful around him in the future."

Ron raised his brows as he drank.

"It's already going to be risky if he comes in here while Tom is around. What we've learned of werewolves isn't much, all told. Can he identify a person by scent? Hear the number of heartbeats in a room? Will he know that someone is hiding?"

Ron looked thoughtful for several moments, then grinned. "I can think of something that might work."

"Oh?"

«« :: »»

Remus arrived the next morning midway through breakfast and slipped into a seat beside Harry, which had conveniently been left open. Few students had stayed that year, which was perhaps a good thing, so there was very little competition at the table for food, though one had to be careful to speak in low tones or avoid anything sensitive, as fewer people meant less noise pollution.

Of course, Harry hadn't been making much in the way of conversation given that Ron was immersed in his usual mealtime behavior of eating as though the food would be taken away at any second. When Remus sat down he was favored by a pleased smile and a nod.

"Good morning, Harry. And you, Ron."

Ron grunted, so Harry took on the mantle of conversationalist. "Good morning, Remus. We really weren't sure what time to expect you. Since you're here so early, though, I hope you'll come with us to Hogsmeade to go shopping."

Remus gave him a sidelong look before filling his plate, then nodding down the table at the headmaster and several of the professors. "Shopping?" he eventually asked. "Leaving it a bit late, are we?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's a little hard to shop for people when so many of them insist on accompanying you. With just you and Ron, I think I can persuade each of you to look the other way for a bit, right? It is a bit of a shame, though. Blaise went home for the holiday, so you won't be able to meet him."

"I believe I recall him vaguely from your third year. Darkish, a bit exotic looking?"

"You could say that, yes. Still, looks don't mean much."

"Yes, Harry, but you have spoken of him in your letters. I'm sure he's a decent person, or you wouldn't still be friends with him, nor would Ron. And, I assume if I'm to go with you, I can keep an eye on you two at the same time."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Expecting trouble, or are you just being cautious?"

"I'm always cautious, Harry," Remus said, then began eating.

Harry let out a slight sigh and glanced at Ron. He could not tell if Remus meant something deeper by that or not, and hated the idea of him being some kind of spy for Dumbledore. Hopefully their outing that day would shed some light on the situation. Even so, if he did go ahead with speaking to Remus privately, at least Tom would be present.

Fifteen minutes later they finished up and Remus waited just inside the entrance for Harry and Ron to run and fetch their things. The walk down to Hogsmeade was mainly spent on discussion of their first prank, which Moony was quick to appreciate. It wasn't until they were browsing through Gladrags that Harry sidled up to Remus and said, "I really want to ask you some questions, but you might find them a bit odd."

"Go ahead."

"What are you going to do once all this is over?" Harry asked casually, pushing one cloak aside on a rack to see another one more clearly.

"That assumes that I'm still alive," Remus said just as casually.

Harry stopped and turned to face him. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

"Harry! Don't say such things," Remus said with a stern look.

"Why shouldn't I? After all, children learn by example, correct? And here you are saying such things, setting a bad example for me. You know, I asked you once to take me seriously and you did. What's changed since then?"

Remus passed a hand across his forehead and dropped his gaze briefly. "You're right. I'm sorry. I can't very well chastise you for that when it would brand me a hypocrite. But, Harry, it's still not good to say."

Harry arched his brow. "So, what do you plan on doing? I know it must be hard for you."

"More of what I've already done, I suppose. Odd jobs and such." Then Remus turned it around and said, "And you?"

"I thought I'd learn about what I've missed in muggle schooling, perhaps. Or maybe one of the more esoteric trades that may not really fit in with OWL and NEWT scores."

"You're worried that people would hire you for your name, not your brains or talent?" Remus asked shrewdly.

Harry shrugged and went back to flipping through the rack. "That's possible, don't you think? It's not like I have much interest lately in being an auror. What about the headmaster—he can't help?"

"He's not a god, Harry, he can only do so much. Most people simply aren't willing to take a chance on a werewolf, no matter who vouches for him. And, muggles tend to get suspicious when I consistently cannot be around during the full moon period."

Harry nodded at a new rack and moved over to it slowly, Remus following. Unfortunately, his introduction to the subject of Dumbledore hadn't revealed much of anything. Moony hadn't seemed to be anything other than ultimately indifferent. He supposed it could have everything to do with resignation toward the prejudice he must have faced all of his life. With that weight, how could a person expect anyone to make it all better? He himself couldn't think of anything offhand, though he was willing to admit that he was barely an adult, that didn't involve being a bit of an entrepreneur.

He shook his head slightly; none of it was helping him with his current goal. "Well, here's another odd question, I guess. What do you think of Professor Dumbledore?"

_:Very subtle, Harry.:_

"In what sense?"

_:Shut up, unless you plan to make helpful suggestions.:_ Harry smiled at Remus and gave a half shrug. "I don't know. Viewpoints change as you age."

Remus shifted and arched a brow, then smiled as Ron popped up on the other side of the rack and asked, "Found anything?"

Harry glanced to the side at Remus and grinned. "I don't know. See anything you like, Moony? Maybe I should keep an eye on you while we're shopping today so I have an idea what to get you, see where your eyes stray."

"The headmaster would be easy," commented Ron. "Just get some socks and sherbet lemons."

Remus shook his head with a slight smile. "I don't think we'll find much in here. Let's move on? Unless you wanted to get those socks?"

"Socks are a very personal thing," Harry said loftily. "I wouldn't dream of attempting that challenge."

They went through several more shops before Remus asked softly, "What are you really wondering about, Harry, because how I feel about Albus is more or less irrelevant."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Harry, I can tell when you're edgy. For some reason my opinion of Albus is important to you, and I'd like to know why."

"Because it is. Sometimes I think that people forget the headmaster is simply a man, that's all. Some people see him as nothing more than an irritating obstacle, while others see him as practically omnipotent. It's like there's no middle ground."

"That still doesn't explain why you're curious about my opinion," Remus pressed gently.

"You're one of the few people I think I could trust to even talk to about things like this. Most people would—how am I supposed to make sense of things, or see more clearly, if all I ever hear are the extremes? You've been through so much in your life. Surely you have a unique perspective."

"That's a delicate way of putting it," Remus said mildly. "All right. I think Albus is as human as the next person. He makes the best decisions he can with the information he has, and yes, sometimes those turn out to be mistakes."

Harry nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

_:A fairly guarded answer, but he seems to mean it,:_ Tom commented.

_:Yes, but. . . .:_

_:And have you found a gift for me yet?:_

_:You think I'm stupid enough to shop for you without blocking you out of my mind first?:_ Harry retorted.

"Harry?"

He blinked and said, "Sorry. My thoughts were elsewhere for a moment."

"Most people would what?" Remus inquired.

Harry cringed inwardly, but decided to be as honest as he could be. "Most people would brush me off if I asked a question like that. They'd either get upset that I'd dare question things, anything, or treat me like I was still eleven. You know what people expect me to do. Is it so strange that I would start to look more closely at those around me?"

Remus didn't look entirely satisfied. Nevertheless he said, "You're nearly an adult, Harry, so no, it isn't. But, if you want to talk more along these lines, we probably should not continue in town, so how about we finish up your shopping?"

"Sure. I think we're going to have to drag Ron away from the sweets, though. It might take both of us."

«« :: »»

Later that evening in the Chamber library they discussed their little shopping trip.

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked.

"Well, I heard most of it, and I think it's worth a shot," Ron said.

Harry looked at Tom expectantly. "We can put Ron's idea into play. I think there's little risk if we do things that way. While I could say that Remus was saying what you wanted to hear, I believe he was sincere at the time, so it is very possible that he would be open to seeing things from your point of view. And, if not, I obliviate him."

"I suppose a lot depends on his primary loyalty," said Ron. "Even if that means he would side with Harry because your James's son. . . ."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, if he meant what he said, then maybe he doesn't blindly follow the old man. If he listens, but we're at all unsure, we can make him swear that oath, right?"

"Yes," Tom agreed, "we can. And if it's that bad, I'll still obliviate him, all right?"

«« :: »»

Harry waited silently in one of the chairs for several minutes after Dobby had popped a soundly sleeping Remus onto the library couch. He might have wondered why it was that a creature such as Remus had not awoken, but he rather figured that Dobby had likely done a little something extra to ensure that the man would arrive safely unaware. Not that it mattered. Though, if Harry completely lost his nerve, Dobby would be able to return Remus as though it had never happened.

_:Harry, now is not the time to waffle.:_

Harry turned his gaze toward the fire and sneered for effect. Tom being invisible did not mean he wasn't aware of where his bonded was. _:Sometimes, Tom, you are much too confident.:_

_:Don't be silly. All dark lords are confident, even if we are insane. It's just how it is. In fact, we're usually overconfident, much to our eventual chagrin, not to mention probable death. You know, muggles are really quite fascinating—amazing technology. Did you know that on the internet there's an actual list of rules for evil overlords?:_

Harry grinned. _:And you question whether or not I should be learning chemistry?:_

_:Harry, all I'm saying is you need to make a decision. Tell him, or don't. It's entirely up to you. Sitting there staring at him isn't accomplishing anything, and if you wait too long, he may wake on his own from having been disturbed. You know that I'll support you either way.:_

Harry rose to his feet with a slight sigh, moved to kneel by the sofa and shook Remus gently, then sat back as the man blinked his eyes open and yawned.

"Harry? What—?"

"Hello, Moony. I'm sorry I've had to wake you like this, but it was the best way for us to talk without any well-meaning persons interfering."

Remus rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the room in some confusion before resting his gaze on Harry again. "Where the hell am I and how did I get here?"

Harry ignored the 'how' and said. "This isn't a particularly weird dream, by the way, in case you were wondering. You _are_ awake. As for where you are, it's my private library." He stood back up and returned to his chair, settling in with outward calm. "I told you before that I had questions for you. Unfortunately, there are very few places I can ask those where I can be guaranteed of privacy, so here you are."

Remus narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm going to take that on faith for the moment. What questions?"

Harry was pleased that so far Remus hadn't seemed to notice they were not alone, though it could simply be the disorientation of having been woken abruptly from a sound sleep. "I'm awfully curious, Moony. For instance, do you happen to know the contents of the prophecy?"

Remus blinked in surprise, then took on a suspicious expression. "What? Is that what this is about? Harry, don't think you can presume to use our relationship to interrogate me for information you have little need to know."

Harry frowned angrily and shifted in his chair. "Little need to know? This is _my_ life we're talking about, Moony, _my_ life on the line. And I'll thank you to remember that I did not ask you to tell me what it said, only if you knew. I am the one with a psychotic dark lord out for this blood. Oh, wait, he already got that. So sorry, I meant to say trying to kill me."

"Harry, Harry, let the Order handle things."

Harry snorted rudely and began laughing. "You have no clue, do you? He never told you. I have to wonder if he told any of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Moony, Dumbledore told me the prophecy barely an hour after Sirius went through the veil. Don't tell me to sit back and let the Order handle things because you have no idea what you're talking about. Dumbledore knows and I know that the only person who can defeat Voldemort is me." He favored Remus with a slightly sneering look of expectation.

"No." Remus gave a sharp shake of his head. "That's not possible."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"He would have said something," Remus insisted.

"You mean like how he said something about me being Sirius's sole heir?" Harry asked. "Or that I own headquarters? Or is it only the Order members who know those trifling little details?"

Remus stared at him blankly so Harry said, "I suppose not judging by your expression. Would you like to see my memory of that night? I'm sure that would help to convince you." When Remus nodded Harry retrieved his wand and summoned to his hand a pensieve Tom had secured for him, then extracted a memory to place inside. After putting the device on the table he said, "Feel free."

Some time later Remus pushed it back and looked at him intently. "All right, I concede that point. Obviously, no, I did not know. If I had. . . ."

Harry responded with a shrug before he retrieved his memory.

"How did you know about the will?"

Harry glanced up sharply. "Are you saying you did?"

Remus shook his head.

"Do you remember when you came to fetch me this summer, and told me that the headmaster had sent a letter to my aunt and uncle? Do you know what that actually meant? What consequences it had for me?"

"I don't understand."

"Of course not."

_:Harry, you're being more than a little snippy here.:_

He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn't right to take his anger out on Remus even peripherally. "They knew about Sirius, that he was in Azkaban and had escaped. They were afraid if they did anything to me, that he would come. Would you like to see what happened when they knew he was dead?" Without waiting for an answer he dropped another memory into the pensieve and pushed it back toward Remus.

That time the man came out looking flushed and angry. "How in the world. . . ?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Harry responded.

"Then how is it that when I came to get you, you looked perfectly well?"

Harry smiled slightly as he retrieved his memory. "I don't know. I'm not sure if you really want to know the answer to that. I mean, I realize that you've always seen Dumbledore as . . . well, I'm not sure, really. Not bad, though, right? Tell you what. Let's see how you react to this memory first." He dropped the memory of his final vision in the pensieve.

Harry was well into a bottle of butterbeer by the time Remus turned his attention back to him. "Would you like something to drink while we talk?" he asked politely.

Remus nodded absently so Harry fetched him a bottle of butterbeer. Several minutes later Remus asked, "So who is this angel?"

"You don't know?"

"Damn it, Harry, I am not your enemy, so stop treating me like one. Yes, I have my suspicions, but I would prefer to hear it from you."

"Not my enemy," Harry repeated with a nod.

"Harry," Remus said sternly, then relented and said more softly, "I'm really quite touched that you've trusted me this far, but I do wish you'd stop being so damn difficult. At any rate, something tells me I'm not getting out of here so easily should I choose to do a runner."

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "That's right, you won't. Not unless you're a parselmouth, anyway."

"Then talk to me. Seeing as how I'm not going anywhere, you may as well, without the dramatics."

Harry snorted softly and took a swig from his bottle. "All right. The angel is my soulmate, Tom."

"Tom Riddle."

"Yes."

"Harry, where are we really?"

"We're in the Chamber of Secrets. Part of it, anyway. The main chamber is a short distance from here."

"If Tom Riddle is your soulmate, then would I be right to assume that it was he who got you out of the situation you were in with the Dursleys?" When Harry nodded he continued, "And that would generally be a rather large sticking point in the grander scheme of things. Your aunt's home isn't protected, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not been properly protected since the third task, Moony. On top of that, it's obvious that whatever the Order guards have been doing it hasn't had much effect on my health and wellbeing. Yes, Tom got me out of there, fixed me up, then made sure I could go back and not be afraid for my life. I get the feeling you know as much about soulmates as Ron does."

Remus cocked his head to the side curiously. "You've already told him, then. Why me?"

"Because first, you're the only other person I would want to, and second, the only other person I think might be able to accept what's happened without immediately dashing off to blurt everything out to the old man." He paused to sneer before saying, "For my own good, of course." After a sip he continued, "This was my decision entirely, but with full support. It's nice being an equal partner in something, with no deception or lies."

"An equal partner in what, Harry?"

Harry gave him a wide-eyed look, then chuckled. "I hope you don't think I'm referring to my apprenticeship in the art of being an evil dark lord, Moony. Far from it. However, I can't say that I've entirely kept my hands clean. After all, helping to figure out how to dispose of the problematic Death Eaters means I do have to think about and discuss things I would normally never consider. Peter is dead by the way, as is Bellatrix. I thought you might like to know."

Remus shifted. "I cannot say that I'm entirely sorry to hear that. Did you kill them yourself?"

"No. Tom did, because I asked him to do something. Either Azkaban or death, but it turned out death was the result. You're being alarmingly calm about this so far."

"I'm not sure I'm past the fact that you were being beaten this past summer. Trying to wrap my head around the fact that Voldemort is your soulmate hasn't quite hit me yet, I think."

Harry coughed and glanced toward the fireplace. _:I feel out of my depth here. Maybe it would be easier if we just had Dobby bring in Ron and you come out of hiding. What do you think?:_

_:If that's what you would like, we can do that. Let me go into the other room and talk to Dobby. I'll be back in just a minute, and I'll come out after Ron arrives.:_

Harry continued to gaze at the fire until footsteps signaled Ron's arrival, at which point he smiled and said, "Hey."

"I wasn't asleep, if you were worried about that. Too excited to sleep," Ron said as he snagged a drink and flopped onto the rug. "Hullo, Remus."

More footsteps from the corridor heralded the arrival of Tom, who was dressed quite casually and appeared to be approximately twenty years old. He dropped onto the arm of Harry's chair, nodded at Ron, then gazed at Remus boldly.

Remus blinked in bemusement and said, "Hello, Ron. And . . . Tom?"

"Correct. I hope that you will allow for the distinction between Tom Riddle and Voldemort, naturally. I find I become slightly peevish when people call me by that particular name these days. Of course, Lord Voldemort is nothing more than an ill-fitting mask of late, and shall soon enough be dead, his loyal followers with him."

"If you'll forgive me saying so, you're looking surprisingly normal for a psychotic mass murderer. Were you this charming when you offed Lily and James?"

Tom glanced down at Harry and said, "You know, I think I sense some hostility here."

"Moony, you attack Tom, you attack me."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware it was the done thing to throw in your lot with the same person who murdered your parents and countless others."

Harry glared at him and turned away, immediately striking up a conversation with Tom and Ron about their latest prank. Tom allowed that he had managed to secure the supplies they needed and said that they would be able to create a test batch in the next few days. That line stopped when Remus cleared his throat as a bid for attention, then said, "I don't think I've ever really got over their deaths, you know. Everything seemed to happen so fast. Harry, can you honestly tell me that if they could speak now, they would be okay with this?"

Harry took a deep breath before saying, "Yes, I do. If you factor in what was happening to me, what Dumbledore has been doing, the real reason for Tom's insanity, and hell, fate itself, yes, I think they would. Right now I have someone who cares for me, who watches out for me, but doesn't treat me like a mindless soldier or a silly and recalcitrant child to be stuck in the dark somewhere until he's needed. He's treated me with more honesty and feeling than the old man ever has, and he's given me everything I've asked for in the way of training, books, and anything else that might make sense. Ron, too.

"Whose fault is it, Remus? Where does the blame lie? Does it start with Dumbledore, who may have never told my parents exactly why they were going into hiding? Does it start with you Marauders who never saw what was happening to Peter? Does it start with whoever overheard the beginning of that prophecy and told Voldemort, for surely had he never learned of it, none of this would have happened. Does it start with the birth of Tom Riddle, years too early to stay sane while waiting for me to arrive on the scene?

"Should I blame Peter for being a sniveling, weak coward? Should I blame Sirius for being so idiotic as to chase after Peter instead of heading straight for Dumbledore to explain what had happened? Should I blame you for never setting a foot near me all those years to make sure I was okay? Should I blame Dumbledore for consciously and knowingly setting me up to face Voldemort as often as possible? For not telling any of you why I was so damn important? For not telling any of you about the second prophecy?

"Should I blame fate itself for sitting up there and laughing at us? What should I do, Moony? Go ahead and kill Tom, thereby killing myself in the process? That's what Dumbledore wants, and expects. Maybe that's why he never cared about the abuse. Who cares if his weapon gets a bit bruised along the way, right? Three prophecies, Remus, one of which was spoken by my mother. She certainly never knew of it. The old man kept it a secret, and the only way I know of it is because of the sorting hat.

"He knew, damn it! He's been waiting all this time for me to die and take Voldemort with me. Instead, there came that third prophecy, the one that opened my eyes to so many possibilities. You're right. I could have held on to my anger, the injustice. I could have continued on the same way and eventually killed Tom, or died trying. Not that it would have mattered, since the other would have died directly. I chose differently, obviously, and now I'm working to make sure that when Harry Potter and Voldemort do die, all the sadistic and demented Death Eaters go with them, and everyone else is set free."

Remus finally got a word in edgewise and said, "Die? Harry, you can't die."

Ron unleashed a silly grin and said, "Funny, I feel as though I've heard that somewhere before."

Harry clenched his jaw and stared fixedly at the floor as Tom snickered quietly, then said, "Is that what you would prefer, Moony? Do you want me to die so badly when the problem is already negligible, and nearly gone?"

"I don't want you to die, Harry."

"Then help me! Listen to us! Honestly, I didn't want to shatter your last remaining tie, so I brought you here to reveal all this to you. Just because this is crazy doesn't mean I've gone round the bend."

"You're not going to let me go with my mind intact if I refuse, are you," Remus stated.

Tom shook his head. "Memory, no. Mind, yes. Should you find yourself unable to accept any of this, you'll be returned to your bed just as you left it, completely unaware you were ever here, that's all."

"Then I suppose it's time for a game of twenty questions. How did Peter die?"

Tom decided to field that one, saying, "The killing curse. Harry decided in the end that it was better to do that than attempt to send him to Azkaban. Given that they do not have wards in place to prevent animagi transformations and Voldemort has lost his best agent in the Ministry, that would have been a chancy proposition. Also, he felt that were his parents to be watching, they might have felt that Azkaban was far more sadistic than simple death. In any case, it also served as a way to see if Harry was able to properly block me from his mind."

"Bellatrix?"

"Dementors, actually. She and the other Death Eaters who were aware that I am a half blood were given to them. They were planning an insurrection and I couldn't allow that to happen. As well, given that the old man is aware that only Harry can kill me, it would have looked decidedly odd should Voldemort die by another's hand."

"I see. Now. . . ."

Several hours later saw Harry half asleep, having somehow managed to be transferred to Tom's lap. Ron was snoring fitfully on the rug, sprawled out with his face toward the fire. Harry yawned and buried his face in Tom's neck, getting a gentle nudge a second later. "Please wake up a little, Harry. We aren't entirely done here. Perhaps if we ordered breakfast?"

Harry opened his eyes enough to see Remus smirking at him and grunted.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." Once Dobby popped in Tom asked, "Would you please scrounge up breakfast for us all, Dobby? Anything would be fine."

Dobby started to nod, then narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Master is not taking care of himself properly."

"I'm fine, Dobby," Harry said with another yawn. "I'll go to bed soon, I promise. You can even tuck me in yourself if you like."

Dobby made a vaguely disgruntled noise and said, "Dobby is being off to the kitchens and is being back shortly," then popped out.

"Ron will wake up once he smells food, I'm sure," Tom said dryly.

"I must have dozed off at some point," Harry said. "Are we good here, or are you gonna have to zap poor Uncle Moony?"

"I think we're fine, Harry," Remus said, still smirking. "I'll even swear a Wizard's Oath if it would make you feel more secure."

"Whatever you think is best," Harry mumbled, dropping his forehead back down to Tom's neck and snuggling closer, and ignoring the resulting sigh.

"I must say, you are terribly persuasive when you put your mind to it," Remus said.

"Am I? I think it's more to the point that truth speaks for itself, though that assumes the listener is not entirely close-minded. Ah, Dobby, thank you. This looks wonderful."

"Master Tom is being welcome," said Dobby, then popped out.

Harry woke up considerably when Tom wafted a forkful of eggs under his nose, electing to sit up properly and snatch it away for himself, and take the plate offered to him. And predictably, Ron awoke within minutes and scooted up the the table to fix a plate for himself, then set to devouring everything he could get his hands on without bothering to acknowledge anyone.

That did not stop Harry from yawning repeatedly once he was full, at which point Tom said, "Would you like to simply repair to the bedroom here, or have Dobby take you back to your room?"

"Here."

Tom nodded and looked at Remus. "If you'll excuse us for a minute?"

«« :: »»

By the time Tom returned to the library, Ron was also gone. "Dobby returned him to his room while you were gone," Remus supplied.

"Not surprising, and safer, I suppose, in the long run. While I would not put it past the old man to start using tracking charms, he has not as of yet, though we continue to be cautious." He paused, then said, "I realize that all of this has been difficult for you. I can no more absolve my sins in your eyes than I could in Harry's, but I think I have made an excellent start."

"You seem to care for him very much. I have never seen him so mature, and while I could attribute some of that to Sirius's death, I don't think that's the real explanation."

"All Harry ever needed was for someone to accept who he truly is and support him. He is incredibly distrustful at this point of authority figures, with good reason, and has certainly begun to look beneath the surface and question everything he comes across. I know that he was short with you, and even bordering on hostile, but he was mainly worried that you would reject him and acting in an irrationally defensive manner.

"He did not come to trust me easily, Remus. The fact that I have been nothing but honest with him has said much in his eyes, and given my willingness to listen, he has been able to express himself without fear. I admit, it was difficult in the beginning to take the time to explain myself or my plans, where before I answered to no one, but I have learned, and Harry _has_ a brilliant mind. We would not be half so far along were it not for his ideas and suggestions."

Remus pursed his lips. "How did Ron react to all this?"

"Dramatically, though he repeated a number of times that he knew about soulmates. I think that and his much earlier promise to Harry that he would think things through before reacting made it easier for him to accept what he was hearing, even if he didn't like it. Harry was only going to tell him the prophecy, but decided to just get it over with and spilled everything. But, he made sure that Ron had learned Occlumency first."

"Hermione?"

Tom shook his head violently. "You and Ron are it, aside from Severus, of course. None of us trust Hermione, especially after she went straight to the old man to report on Harry's words and actions at one of the DA meetings. She hasn't any real faith in Harry at all. She blames him for Sirius's death, and blames him for his re-sort, even though it was technically the old man's suggestion that Harry talk to the hat. Yes, I know, Harry manipulated him into that, but still. She also firmly advocates that Harry do exactly as society dictates, despite the fact that the wizarding community is two-faced and hypocritical in the extreme." He shrugged and waved his hand.

"I'm going to say from the strength of that response that none of you feel she could be adequately swayed." Remus shrugged as well, then said, "That's Harry's decision, I suppose. Well, you've caught me up on the past, so what's going to happen now?"

"When Harry is ready, I'll fetch him from Privet Drive and we'll stage the showdown. Whether or not the remaining Death Eaters end up in Azkaban is anyone's guess. We thought it would be a nice touch, though, for me to leave a note in his room so that people would know the protections had been worthless. We had considered at one point making it look as though Ron had been kidnapped and that Harry, the ever reckless fool, had rushed off to his rescue, but we've more or less discarded that idea."

"And where's he going to live? Here?"

Tom nodded. "Or Hogsmeade, at least for the next year. He wants to remain close to Ron." He took the time to hunt out the Marauder's Map and activate it, seeing as how it was getting on the usual time for people to be waking up, then said, "Would you like a tour?"

"Sure, but, why the map?"

"Just to keep an eye out in case anyone should try to rouse you from your rooms. Should that happen, I'll simply call Dobby to return you immediately."

"Without an oath?"

Tom gazed at him intently, then smiled. "You could make one now if you like. Though, I don't think Harry would have dozed off if he had felt any real doubt about you. Of course, if you did break faith, I'm sure you realize that you'd never see him again in this lifetime."

"True. Carry on."

When they reached the bedroom Tom noticed a fond smile spread over Remus's face at the sight of Harry sprawled beneath the covers while snuggled up to one of the pillows. Nagini was curled on the other pillow, hissing softly.

Once back in the corridor Remus said, "He looks so innocent when he's sleeping."

"And he maintains it, strangely enough, despite everything. There's just something about him. Let's check out the practice room next."

Remus burst out laughing once they arrived, after seeing the targets set up for use. "Harry's idea, I presume?"

"He said there should be joy in learning when I offered to set this up for him." Tom went on to relate his mistake of creating a target of Dumbledore in their dream room and how it had eventually morphed into this particular incarnation.

Then he aimed an intent look at Remus and said, "You know, I want you to tell me if you have even the tiniest doubt about this. Either you need to squash it ruthlessly, or I need to do some creative tinkering with your memories. Because, let me say that while Harry would undoubtedly attempt to tear me to shreds if he found out, I would agonize only briefly over the decision to rip your heart out and add you to my collection in the back garden if you betrayed him, no matter how much I might like you."

Remus took a step back and coughed. "You don't mince words, I see. I certainly have no doubt whatsoever that your statement is valid, so if you want me to make that oath, I will. Apparently certain parts of your past are not so easily exorcised."

Tom shook his head and chuckled. "Perhaps. I simply want to make sure we understand each other. I will not allow anyone to harm Harry."

"Including yourself?"

"Of course."

"Did you also . . . encourage Ron to behave himself?" Remus asked dryly.

"There was no perceivable need, and Ron, despite his training, is fairly transparent. You, on the other hand, are harder to read."

"Tom, I have no valid claim on Harry except for what he's granted me himself. Yes, I would have gladly taken him in to raise as my own if they'd let me, but we both know no one wants to trust a werewolf. Harry stole my heart as a baby, but that doesn't make him mine. The fact is, he's the only thing I have left that's like family, so don't worry, I won't do anything to jeopardize Harry's situation. Even if Albus were a living saint he's still made mistakes. That those mistakes often center around Harry is enough for me to cast his leadership aside and stick with what I consider to be my family instead. I am amazed, at any rate, at how much Harry has managed to learn, either on his own or with your assistance, despite Albus's policies."

Tom shrugged a shoulder and nodded. "Even so, depending on how often the old man calls on you for support. . . ."

"He mostly has me attempting to garner support from other werewolves, but that is difficult given how badly the Ministry treats my fellows. There are some who would rather form a third faction and attempt to overthrow whoever comes out on top of this confrontation under the assumption that the winner would be too tired to resist."

Tom let out a snort of laughter. "I do believe they'll be quite disappointed in the end, then. Given how little real activity is being ordered, I cannot imagine that forces on either side will so much as have to breathe heavily. You're a bit of a prankster, correct? If you come up with any interesting ideas for my lackeys, feel free to suggest them. I've been sending them out on pointless missions to keep them busy and out of my hair. Well, when they aren't actively recruiting."

They ended up back in the library, taking seats, then Remus said, "What do we do now?"

"Well," Tom said gravely, "you help me figure out what to get Harry for Christmas. Sure, I will be getting him that dartboard with Dumbledore's face on it I keep mentioning, but. . . ."

Remus laughed softly.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	30. Discomposed

* * *

**— 30: Discomposed —**

* * *

Harry slept well into the morning, eventually waking and padding out to the library in search of Tom. He found him hunched over one of the jigsaw puzzles Harry had made for him, busily hunting through the loose pieces in search of what he was looking for, so Harry folded himself down onto the floor next to him.

Tom glanced over and smiled, then said, "Morning. Though, it'll be lunch soon enough."

Harry yawned, casting an appraising look at the puzzle. "Remus went back to his room, I guess?"

"Yes. Dobby took him back not all that long after you went to sleep."

"He's probably tired. It's really unfortunate that the full moon falls on Christmas Eve this year," Harry remarked with a grimace, then eyed Tom carefully. "So, did you threaten him?"

"Harry, I am saddened and appalled that you think I might do something like that," Tom said with one hand pressed against his chest.

"Uh huh. So, did you?" He might still be half asleep, but that didn't mean he possessed lesser brain function than Grabbe or Goyle.

Tom lifted a hand and held his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart. "Just a teensy bit. Then I bullied him into trying to help with gift ideas for you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and glanced away. "Um, I kind of came up a total blank . . . for you."

Tom hunted out another piece to try before he said anything. "Harry, if all I gave you for Christmas was a kiss, how would you react?"

"Favorably," he admitted. "But I could do that for you any day."

"That is true. However, this will be the first Christmas I've ever spent with someone. That alone makes it special. And given that it's you, it's priceless. So if you can't think of anything, don't obsess over it. You'll have time enough to feel guilty next year if you still have the same problem." Tom shot him a teasing look.

Harry chuckled and nodded. "Fair enough. It's weird, though. I mean, it isn't like it was ever a big deal before I came to Hogwarts. More like a cause for envy, watching Dudley get everything his heart desired while I was stuck with cleaning up after everyone else. Now that I _can_ give gifts, and have people I care enough about to do so for, I'm at a bit of a loss at times."

"Did you have any trouble with the others?"

Harry shifted again and aimed a somewhat sheepish look at his bonded. "Well, for Ron I traded on my name for once. I sent a letter to the Chudley Cannons and they sent back an autographed uniform. I figured, I won't be able to do something like that for much longer, so I may as well get some use out of it while I can. Hermione is going to have a fit when she finds out."

Tom laughed and reached over to ruffle his hair playfully.

"Hermione was easy. I got her a gift certificate to Flourish & Blotts, but specified that she wasn't allowed to use it for next year's school texts. Moony is a problem, though. I can think of a lot of things I could get him, but I'm worried that he'd get upset."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, like his clothes. I know it's hard for him, and I'd love to get him a new cloak or something nice like that, but I'm afraid he might see it as criticism or charity."

Tom shook his head. "That almost sounds like Ron getting upset over you trying to be generous. Remus will have a fit of his own once he finds out how much money you left him. Either way, he does think of you as family, Harry, so I think you should get him whatever you think he might like. I don't think he would actually protest, but if he does, just ignore it."

"Did he even say how long he was staying for?"

"No, you'll need to ask him."

So it was that Remus was next seen at lunch, though he did look rather more weary than usual. Harry took a seat to one side of him and nodded a greeting, then set about filling his plate. Ron shuffled in not long after and sat down without a word.

After giving Ron a smile Harry turned to Remus and said quietly, "Do you feel up for a walk after we eat?"

"A short one, perhaps," was the reply.

As soon as they were done Harry and Remus left the castle to stroll across the grounds rather aimlessly. Once they were a decent distance away Harry said quietly, "I really am glad you're here."

"I'm happy to be here, too, Harry."

"How long will you be staying?" he asked as he pulled his cloak around him more tightly and squinted against the reflection of the sun off the coating of snow on the ground.

"I'm not sure. I know that with the knowledge of my being a werewolf being common, there are those here who aren't comfortable with my presence. I've already noticed several of the children shy away from me as it is."

Harry frowned and stopped, then turned to face Remus. "You could stay . . . elsewhere . . . if you wanted. I mean, I know you'll have to get back to your usual pursuits sooner or later, but. . . ."

Remus raised his brows briefly. "Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I am, and I know he likes you. He's said so several times. And frankly, it might be a nice opportunity for both of you. I feel kind of sad at times that. . . . Well, er, it can be hard to make new friends, you know?"

"You do realize that the full moon is Christmas Eve, Harry."

Harry nodded, then shook his head. "That doesn't matter to me. It's only a problem if you think it is. If you don't want to stay, just say so, but don't think you can't just because of something like that. I know we can figure something out, and this way you wouldn't be alone afterward. I could be with you."

Remus cast a faint smile at him. "That would be nice, I admit. It can be horrible to feel so wretched, and be alone at the time."

"I would take care of you," Harry said immediately, reaching out to place his hand on Remus's arm. "I'd be happy to. And I'd get to spend more time with you."

Remus chuckled. "If we did this, I would have to appear to leave today, then come back sometime this evening."

"That's fine. Listen, why don't we go back to my room and talk about this there. I can't imagine that anyone would raise a fuss over you visiting, especially since almost every Slytherin student has gone home this year."

Ten minutes later they were safely in Harry's room. He had already decided that if anyone should comment he would shrug it off, or claim ignorance of whatever rule he might have broken. As soon as they were seated he said, "Tom has a rental in Hogsmeade. I don't see why you couldn't go there this evening. No one should even notice. I can have Dobby jump you into the Chamber at that point with no fuss. And by then I could make sure you had a place to sleep, and a place to transform safely."

"Don't you think you should mention this to Tom first? He might not appreciate having a guest over the holiday."

Harry snorted softly and looked away. "I'm sure he'll behave himself, but all right." A second later he sent, _:Tom? Do you mind if Remus spends the holiday with us in the Chamber? He doesn't feel comfortable staying at the castle openly because of how people react to him being a werewolf.:_

After a slight pause Tom responded. _:If it would make you happy, I won't object.:_

_:I thought it would also be a nice way for you two to talk, you know? Spend some time together.:_

_:I know what you're up to, Harry, and that's fine. I will, however, need to place some strong privacy charms on our bedroom.:_

Harry laughed and sent, _:Of course! Besides, you've said more than once how much it arouses you when I don't hold back and I wouldn't want to deprive you. I thought maybe he could come back this evening, to Hogsmeade, and have Dobby pick him up from that house you've been renting. And while we're waiting we can set up a room for him, and a place to transform?:_

_:I'll send Dobby up shortly, then.:_

Harry turned back to Remus and grinned. "No problem."

Remus, after giving a slight nod of acknowledgement, pinned him with an intent look and said, "Harry, I've been wondering. Are you and Tom . . . intimate?"

Harry flushed immediately. "Moony! What kind of a question is that?" As an afterthought he occluded his mind, not wanting Tom to be privy to the conversation.

"A valid one considering that you two are soul bonded. And since you have proclaimed me to be your de facto uncle, I think I can get away with asking. I'm curious to know just how far along things have gone."

Harry ruffled his hair and looked around for a moment. "I'm not sure that's fair."

"Do you love him?"

Harry hesitated, then nodded. "He. . . . I haven't actually said that to him, though. We had a conversation about love once, and I told him at the time that I didn't know what it meant. I think he was right, though, when he said it's different for everyone." He blinked and looked away as Dobby popped in.

"Master Tom is asking me to deliver this, master," Dobby said, then held out a small envelope.

"Thank you, Dobby. Did he mention our plans for later this evening?" Dobby shook his head so Harry briefly explained what he wanted, and when the elf had gone peeked into the envelope to see a piece of paper and a key. As he handed it over to Remus he said, "The address and such."

Remus tucked it into his robes without investigating and said, "Different for everyone?"

"Well, yes. I haven't exactly had the best examples. I know with a bond like ours it would be easy to just . . . drift, but I didn't want that. I spent a lot of time thinking about what he said, especially his comments on love for family or friends. He hasn't exactly had much real experience there himself." Harry shrugged a shoulder. "I think we've both learned."

"And intimacy?"

Harry rolled his eyes and shot Remus a dark look. "All right, yes, we are. And it's bloody wonderful, too."

Remus laughed softly and shook his head. "I'm happy to hear that, Harry. After all, some say that if you can't even speak of it, you've no business doing it."

"Yes, well. . . ." Harry thought for a moment, then aimed an innocent look at Remus. "Would you like a moment by moment detailing of our first time?"

"Ah, no, that won't be necessary," Remus said hastily.

"Well, all right, if you say so."

"I think it's time for me to return to my room and pack up my things," Remus said, "and then go. What time would you like me to be at the house?"

«« :: »»

Given that there were several chambers within the complex that they had not yet found a use for it was no great trouble to set one of them up as a spare bedroom of sorts. Obviously, whatever else Salazar had been up to when he had created the place, he had likely had it in mind for use as a second home given the layout to be found down some of the tunnels.

Another spare, possibly used as a storeroom in the past, was designated as the temporary transformation room and the door reinforced drastically. After a brief discussion Harry and Tom agreed that they would not ask Severus to brew up wolfsbane, not knowing how the man would react to such a request, or the knowledge that Remus had been added to those in the know. While they would not actively hide that news, they both thought that it should probably come out casually.

Remus arrived later that evening and pronounced the guest room to be imminently suitable after only a brief look, then stowed his small bag next to the bed and joined them in the library. He appeared to be quite grateful to sink into one of the chairs and relax.

"Is there anything special we ought to have on hand for you, Moony?" Harry asked.

Remus shook his head. "I just need to rest frequently. Sometimes I feel a bit dizzy or ill, but I'm used to that."

"Simply call upon Dobby if you are alone and in need," said Tom. "Harry has already been thoughtful enough to ask him to listen for you. We have also set aside a room for when you must transform so that you need not leave the Chamber complex in order to do so."

"That's quite kind of you. I'm sure you can show me a little later on." Then he looked at Harry and said, "How is it that you can manage to be down here so often and no one seems to notice?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't socialize much, except for the DA meetings. Ron, of course, and Blaise, but Blaise has no idea about this, and won't. I mean, I spent a long time thinking about what I would do once everything was over, but I wasn't given a real choice in the matter."

"What do you mean?"

Harry glanced at Tom briefly, then said, "We had already discussed whether or not I would disappear in the aftermath. I wasn't too keen on that because I thought it would be like snubbing the people I care about. But, after talking to the sorting hat, it became pretty clear that I'd have to. If Dumbledore expects that I'll die when Voldemort does. . . ." He made an odd gesture with one hand. "If I didn't, that either says the prophecy he heard from my mother was a complete sham, or that someone pulled a fast one on him. I think he'd start to investigate, you know? Anyway, knowing that, I realized I didn't have a choice. I couldn't 'defeat' Voldemort and spend my seventh year seeing how people would end up treating me. Harry Potter must die, and I just can't stand being trapped in this image much longer, not knowing what I do."

"So you thought about who you _could_ tell as a compromise."

"Yes, exactly," Harry said. "At any rate, since I keep to myself mostly, most people don't have a clue what I'm up to. Hermione knows that Ron is spending time with me, but I sincerely doubt she knows where, and if Dumbledore suspects, he's not said anything about me sneaking Ron into my room." Harry paused, aimed a slight smirk at Tom, then said, "It is easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission." 1

Tom laughed and shook his head. "Don't start that again."

Harry saw the puzzlement that wrinkled Remus's brow and explained, "I have an odd tendency to spout quotations when least expected. If nothing else, it keeps Tom amused."

«« :: »»

Tom awoke Christmas morning feeling quite satiated. Harry had been very persistent the evening before, more or less pushing him onto the bed and doing his best to ravage every inch of skin he could reach. It had been no surprise to Tom that he had shortly found himself being pressed against the mattress as Harry attempted to kiss him into insensibility while slowly preparing him. Harry had, without a doubt, learned quite well how to take control of certain situations, and Tom was certainly obliging.

He stretched, feeling Harry's warm body pressed against his, and dropped a kiss on his bonded's shoulder. Harry responded immediately, pushing back teasingly, then rolled over and aimed a sleepy smile at him. "Morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Now that we're awake, perhaps we can see about breakfast and presents?" He was mildly surprised to see Harry's expression alter to one of worry and said, "What is it? Are you concerned about Remus?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, I—it's nothing," he said, then smiled and rolled off the bed. Within moments he had disappeared into the bathroom.

Tom felt a great deal like frowning, but did not, and instead sat up and pushed his hair back. Much as he might like the idea of peeking into Harry's thoughts, he resisted, knowing that if Harry caught him at it, there would be hell to pay. Twenty minutes later they were both ready for the morning, though Harry was still acting a bit oddly in his opinion, and that conviction was strengthened when Harry clasped his hands behind his back and toed the carpet, not quite looking at him. Still, he waited.

"Tom, I know you said that it was enough just that we're spending our first Christmas together, but. . . ." Harry glanced up at him briefly, then looked away. "I still feel bad that—"

"Harry, it's all right."

Harry shook his head and said, "Please let me finish. I tried so hard to think of something for you, and in the end, finally, I did. I think so, at least. I hope you think so, too."

Tom crossed the room to take a seat on the bed and continued to wait as Harry turned to face him.

"It's just—well, I don't know." Harry kicked at the floor, then exhaled and stepped over to sit down next to him at an angle. "The best gift I can give to you is to truthfully say . . . I love you."

Tom watched as a slight flush stained Harry's cheeks, then reached over to place his fingers under Harry's chin and tip his head up. "Ah, Harry, you remind me, without meaning to, that I myself am remiss. Yes, I have admitted it in not so many words, but I have never said it, either. I do love you, Harry, and yes, I do think this is a wonderful gift. I could not have asked for anything more special."

After a slight hesitation Harry grinned and pushed off from the bed, coming to straddle Tom not a second later and capture his mouth in a deep kiss. Five minutes later, and quite out of breath, Tom had rolled Harry onto his back and pinned his hands above his head. "I am more than willing to indulge you, but I think perhaps we should go check on Remus. If he is feeling up to it, we could all have breakfast together."

Harry pouted for a moment, then nodded. "You're right, though he may not be in the mood for any festivities. Still, I don't want him to be alone, and if I _were_ an animagus, I would have been with him last night so he had company."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to learn how to do that, Harry," he said, then released his prey after a quick kiss.

Remus was found to be sleeping soundly, so Tom and Harry crept back out of the room and called for Dobby, who informed them that he had tucked Remus in several hours back and would bring him to the library once he had awoken. He then told them rather imperiously that they would be eating breakfast in a few minutes and to please go get comfortable, then popped out without waiting for a response.

«« :: »»

As it was, they had decided to wait on the opening of presents until both Ron and Remus could be with them. Ron had long since arrived, thanks to Dobby, and was currently engaged in a game of chess with Tom, much to Harry's amusement, while he read one of the many muggle fiction books that Tom had brought in from his own collection.

He was just turning the page when Remus was popped into a chair and fussed over by Dobby, who insisted on tucking a blanket around him just so and pestering him to find out if there was anything in particular that he needed. Remus waved him off with repeated reassurances, though he did allow that some tea to help settle his stomach would be nice.

"I'm so glad to see you awake," said Harry, setting down his book. He glanced over at Tom and Ron, then leaned across the table between him and Remus to whisper, "I told him, this morning."

Remus furrowed his brow, leading Harry to believe he was being a bit too cryptic, so he whispered, "Remember when we were talking before, in my room? I told him, how I feel."

Remus's face relaxed into a smile as he nodded. "Judging by your demeanor, I'm going to assume things went well, then."

"Definitely, though I was pretty nervous at the time," he replied, then in a louder voice said, "Do you feel up to opening presents?"

Remus was subsequently visibly surprised when the first gift he opened, from Harry, was revealed to be a pendant much like the one Harry already wore, though it was fashioned from platinum rather than silver, as was the chain.

Harry, taking in the look on Remus's face, was moved to explain. "Since it's linked up with a Protean Charm to one that I have, you'll know when I'm thinking of you," he said, then pulled out his own pendant, revealing that it was actually two, one in front of the other.

"Yes, but. . . ." Remus indicated the front face; on it was an etching of four creatures.

"Oh, that." Harry ruffled his hair and gave Remus a lopsided smile. "I know it seems strange, Moony, but you were all friends once. It seems to me that even if Peter did, er, make mistakes, that he shouldn't be remembered _just_ for that, right? So I included him. I hope you don't mind."

Remus looked down for a moment, then put on the chain. "No, you're right, I suppose. We did have many good times together. Thank you, Harry."

The surprise gift for Harry was a long, narrow box from Tom, which immediately made him suspicious. On opening it he nodded, cast an arch look at his bonded, and pulled out a wand made of some dark wood he could not put a name to. Almost instantly he felt a dizzying rush of power sweep his body and gasped.

"Would I be wrong in thinking that it's suitable?" said Tom mildly.

Harry blinked slowly, trying to get his bearings, then aimed his new wand at the box he was still holding and levitated it, laughing when it hit the ceiling with enough force to flatten it. "I think that answers your question. This is amazing. And _I_ was right in thinking you avoided my questions for this exact reason."

"As you say," responded Tom, "though it is clear you'll need to become accustomed to it."

«« :: »»

By the time the students were to return to Hogwarts the four of them had tested the latest prank that Harry's group wanted to spring on the other students. After some trial and error it had been decided that the best way to handle the issue of explosive dry ice was to simply toss the pieces in just before they fled the entrance hall.

Tom had taken a day off from the holiday to play Voldemort, having set up a number of interviews with those brought in by recruitment. He was hard pressed in some cases not to show the amount of distaste he was feeling on his face; several of the candidates were an odd mixture of indiscriminately sadistic and stupid.

He had also taken the time to quietly stop by Malfoy Manor and note the names of those students who had decided to attend the festivities there, though he had not revealed his presence to anyone. It was clear to him, however, that some of the people were there under duress. He suspected that the younger Malfoy had taken to drawing students in by degrees, then using his knowledge of their less than honorable activities as a way to coerce them into following his lead. To be sure, a very Slytherin thing to do.

Unfortunately, they were running out of book shops for the Death Eaters to hit that made sense and several raids had actually been interrupted by Ministry forces, resulting in several Death Eaters being sent to Azkaban. Harry and Tom weren't put off by that knowledge given that those people had altered Dark Marks, but it would seem as though Voldemort was backsliding into obsession if they continued to send people out on similar missions.

Simply for a change of pace they agreed to send a contingent off on a raid of Azkaban itself, and, as expected, those Death Eaters were also captured and incarcerated. It was no coincidence that those sent were among those with the highest inclination toward sadism.

Fairly early on the morning after the students had returned, Harry, Ron, and Blaise crept quietly into the entrance hall and set up large cauldrons in each corner, filling each with water from their wands. Then, they very carefully scattered their mixture of iodine crystals and ammonium hydroxide (the resulting sludge having been over the holiday mixed, drained, and dried) everywhere except along the margins of the room.

Once the floor was covered in a fine layer they each chose a cauldron, being careful to stick to the edges of the hall, set the water to near boiling, then dropped in blocks of dry ice, converging on the last as a group to set it up, then ducking down the Slytherin staircase. Harry and Blaise saw Ron to the secret passage, then disillusioned themselves long enough to get back to their rooms. Ron, he expected, opted to use the invisibility spell Tom had taught them to return to his dorm, it being a safer spell for such a long journey.

When they did head off to breakfast a short while later they were amused to see a number of students milling about in confusion. Some were mincing carefully across the floor, or trying to, jumping at nearly every step, while others were running straight for the Great Hall, most likely considering it to be a place of safety. The sound of the snap powder reacting to the pressure combined with the students' reactions was enough to force Harry to duck his head and cover his mouth in haste. The fog, of course, made it impossible to see what was on the floor or where it was safe to step, and none of their fellow students had cottoned on to the safety zones along the perimeter, nor had any of them had much success in getting the fog to dissipate, either.

Blaise turned to Harry and said with an admirably straight face, "I don't suppose it's occurred to any of them that they aren't being hurt. So why on earth are they acting like people are shooting hexes at them?"

A nearby student overheard the comment and straightened, took a deep breath, then marched bravely toward the Great Hall, faltering only slightly along the way as most every step produced a bang, his progress oddly resembling a toy soldier in his stiltedness.

Harry, still struggling to keep his amusement largely contained, replied, "Well, shall we follow his example, then? Let it not be said that we are either cowardly or stupid."

Blaise grinned and started forward, Harry following, pausing only momentarily as Ron trotted down the main staircase with a look of surprise on his face. His low-voiced comment of, "Look at the herd stampede," sent Harry off into paroxysms of silent laughter.

It became even worse in a way once they actually entered the Great Hall. Many of the female students were chattering away at each other at top speed, looking for all the world as though they had just suffered through a great trial and were lucky to be alive, and Harry noticed a definite gleam in Snape's eyes as he took his customary seat. He tilted his head toward Blaise and whispered, "You realize, of course, if we're found out that Filch will have a field day with our punishment."

"I think it would be worth it," Blaise replied, then reached out to grab toast from the rack. "Besides, did you see Malfoy?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away quickly, but seeing Snape arching a brow at him had him looking down at the table just as fast. Malfoy had been halfway to the Great Hall when his nerve had apparently broken and his subsequent progress had been made with unseemly haste.

"He almost looked like he was goose-stepping," Blaise added with a smirk, causing Harry to choke slightly and reach for something to drink. "Come to think of it, though," he continued thoughtfully, "Professor Snape seems oddly amused by all this."

Harry cleared his throat softly and said, "Perhaps it's just that he possesses a sense of humor like anyone else?"

Blaise snorted softly. "Some people just don't. I have never seem him—" He glanced across the table at the first years, then shook his head.

A while later, as Harry was leaving Potions, he heard a very soft, "Ten points to Slytherin."

* * *

1. "It is easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission." — Possibly derived from "It is easier to get forgiveness than permission." Source: The Quotations Page (information sent in by Pokey1984).

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	31. Initiative

* * *

**— 31: Initiative —**

* * *

Harry was laughingly in the midst of showing Ron wand movements for the next spell he planned on teaching the DA when an intense anger that threatened to consume him swept through his body. He staggered, dropping his wand from nerveless fingers, then collapsed to the floor clutching his head, which by then was exploding in pain.

He didn't understand, and though he tried to speak, what came out was only marginally coherent. Ron could be heard panicking in the background, and Harry ignored him in favor of trying desperately to block off his connection to Tom, which he assumed was the source of his pain. It was forever, subjectively, before he felt someone lifting him from the floor and cradling him against their chest. It was only the scent that told him it was not Tom, or Ron, and by then he was being laid gently on his bed.

"Get his shoes off," said a resonant voice as Harry felt his glasses being removed. And then something was pressed to his lips. "Drink, Potter." It was a request, not that Harry felt he had any real choice, so he did, barely tasting what would normally have caused him to grimace. Frankly, the continual reverberations in his head were more than enough to distract him from such minor considerations.

And then, the anger simply stopped. Harry bolted upright, releasing his head, breathing as heavily as though he had just run a five kilometer race, and sweating just as badly. "What. . . ?" He reached for his glasses automatically, twisting, and promptly fell off the bed when the movement made him dizzy with pain.

"Damn it, Potter." He looked up in a daze to see a flash of light, and a blurry, dark figure slipping something on over his head. And then Harry was lifted back onto the bed with a growl and told, "If you so much as twitch a finger I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons for a month. Don't move."

"Sorry, sir," he whispered.

"You will stay right there and let that potion do its job, Potter. Weasley, sit _down_. Potter isn't about to expire before your—"

The distinctive sound of a house elf arriving was heard, and with him was a visitor, one that rushed across the room to gather Harry into his arms and whisper in his ear, "I'm so sorry."

Harry immediately relaxed; whatever had happened, it could not have been intentional. Tom's arms were bordering on tight around him, but they were solid and reassuring.

Tom whispered further, "I would give anything to take away the pain I've caused you."

Harry shook his head gingerly just before Snape said, rather dryly, "As touching as this little scene is, I think we would be better served here if I were to have Mr Potter take a sleeping draught. Surely it would be kinder for him to sleep it off. And, naturally, I wish to speak with you, Tom. Privately."

The edge to Snape's final words were probably not lost on anyone, though one never knew about Ron. Harry had absolutely no desire to go to sleep at that point and shook his head violently, heedless of the additional pain it caused him for the potion had not yet fully kicked in. "No way. I promise to stay in bed, but I am not letting you knock me out. I fully expect someone to explain to me just what in hell happened before I do go to sleep for the evening."

«« :: »»

As soon as Harry was settled and Ron had been directed to sit with him for the time being Tom turned to Dobby, who was standing there wringing his hands, and requested a jump to the Chamber, with Snape to follow. And when Severus did find him to talk, he was already in the practice room creating and destroying objects with a passion. He was, therefore, extremely surprised when Severus stepped up in front of him and backhanded him soundly, then knocked the wand out of his hand.

"Tom, if you persist in acting akin to a hysterical woman, I will treat you as such." He sneered, then said, "Are you even bothering to occlude your mind, or are you causing Potter even more pain through this childish display of wanton destruction?"

Tom stared at him in bemusement, then shook his head slightly and sank to the floor. "I'm not sure you're going to be able to forgive me this one, Severus," he muttered, cradling his jaw with one hand.

"And what, pray tell, does _that_ mean?"

Tom glanced up and sighed. "You know what we've been doing. The plans, the raids, all of that."

"Yes, get to the point."

"One of the newer recruits has taken exception to how many of his fellow Death Eaters have been captured and sent to Azkaban of late. He made some decisions as to who, exactly, is at fault for this, and decided to attempt to impress Voldemort with his forward thinking and initiative."

"Usually a bad combination," Severus commented. "What has this to do with me?"

"He decided you're the problem, Severus, and since he cannot get at you directly, he attacked indirectly. He went after your mother."

Severus stepped back abruptly, then said, "I need a drink." He turned and stalked off without another word.

Tom heaved a sigh and stood, then searched around for his wand before heading out to find Severus, locating him in the library. Severus was already seated in one of the chairs with a glass of port, so Tom joined him, remaining silent.

Severus finally said, "And what did he do?"

"Broke her mind with Cruciatus," Tom said bluntly.

"Shades of the Lestranges, how charming." Then he took a gulp from his glass and said stiffly, "I apologize for striking you."

Nonplussed, all Tom could do was nod. A few moments later he said, "Accepted, of course. Severus, your mother is currently at my house, being watched over by the house elves. The man, Jensen, is languishing in a healer's coma in Peter's old room. You brought me to my senses just before I went to kill him. At that point, I decided to wait on his fate to see if you would like to deal with him personally. It was why I was delayed."

Severus had another gulp, then shook his head. "I have no interest in killing anyone, Tom. Deal with him as you see fit. And while I was never very close to my mother—my father was not a nice man—I cannot say with any truthfulness that this has left me unaffected."

"Then I will deal with him. And I will find a way to help your mother."

Severus let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Help her? Like someone has managed to help the Longbottoms? Please, Tom, spare me the baseless promises."

"Then I will try! You have no idea how sorry I am, Severus."

"I believe I do. However, I think if you stop to consider things more rationally, you will realize, as I already do, that this was not something any of us thought of. I hardly think this is your fault alone, and I doubt any of us would have predicted something like this happening. More to the point, you still need to explain to Potter just exactly why you went into a mindless, murderous rage that caused enough feedback to flatten the boy, never mind the fact that you did not occlude your mind. Potter can do it reflexively, so why not you?"

Tom blinked slowly and aimed an incredulous look at Severus. "Do I hear concern for Harry there?"

"You are obviously suffering from dementia if you actually expect me to answer that. Now, I am going to visit my mother. I suggest you take care of your own obligations." Severus stood up with a sneer and walked out, presumably to call Dobby to his aid.

Tom sat there a while longer, sipping his port; there was no sense in wasting it. When he was done he rose and called for Dobby. "Have you stayed with Harry, or did you resume your Hogwarts duties?"

Dobby shook his head. "Wheezy is assuring Dobby that they is being fine, so Dobby went back."

"All right, this is what I would like you to do, then. Check on Harry, please, and if he's already sleeping, bring him to our bedroom here—I'll wait there—then return Ron to Gryffindor tower. If he's awake, ask him if he would rather stay where he is or come here. Come and get me if he chooses to stay there."

"Yes, Master Tom!"

Dobby popped out immediately, so Tom made his way to the bedroom, and a short time later Harry was brought in. As Dobby left, Harry ambled over to the bed, a little unsteady on his feet. Tom grabbed one of his arms to help balance him until he was sitting down.

"I dunno what Snape gave me," Harry said, "but I'm feeling a bit woozy."

"You should have just had Dobby pop you into the bed, Harry, but I expect you were feeling manly and thought you should walk?"

Harry gave him a halfhearted glare. "If I could focus properly, I'd show you manly. Now what the hell happened to make you so angry?"

Tom cleared his throat and sat down next to Harry. "Again, I apologize. I admit, I should always occlude my mind whenever I'm doing business as Voldemort. I never meant to hurt you."

Harry sighed soulfully and replied, "Apology accepted, and if I thought for one moment you were shading the truth, I'd—look, stop being coy, all right?"

"It's very simple, Harry," he said, then explained what had happened. "And I became so enraged over what Jensen had done that I lost control of myself. It was only when Severus tried to signal me with his pendant that I came to my senses."

Harry blinked a few times and shook his head. "What happened to Jensen? I don't think I felt. . . ."

"No, he's alive. For now, anyway. I offered him to Severus, but he declined personal retribution."

Harry shook his head again, then flopped back. "Tom, is the reason you got so angry because someone hurt your friend, or because a Death Eater presumed to act of his own initiative?"

Tom frowned and started to protest, then stopped short and gave Harry an assessing look. "I'd like to say that's not a fair question, but I must admit that it is. And however much I would like to say it is _only_ the first, I would probably be lying if I did. Acting as Voldemort, I allow I must think as he would to some degree." He brushed Harry's cheek with the back of his hand, then continued, "Even so, that would be only a small part of why I reacted as I did."

Harry rolled his head to the side and gave him a small smile. "Is Snape very angry with you, or should I not be asking?"

"I'm not sure, actually. He left rather abruptly." Tom furrowed his brow and gave his bonded another assessing look. "We can talk about this further, Harry, but I think Severus must have dosed you pretty heavily and I question the degree of your present lucidity."

Harry rubbed his face and squinted. "I am sleepy," he admitted.

"Then let us go to bed. We can continue this discussion in the morning if you wish."

«« :: »»

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked reluctantly over breakfast. "And I'm sorry if I was unkind last night. I don't think I was quite all there."

"It never crossed my mind to fault you on the bluntness of your question last night. I need to deal with Jensen. I need to try to find a way to help Severus's mother. And I need to make sure you aren't going to launch a sneak attack on me in retribution."

Harry sniggered softly and waggled his fork. "I promise to behave myself if you promise to give me a massage later today."

"It's a deal."

"Tom, I suppose, depending on how long you want to or can keep that Jensen fellow alive, he could be used as one of the two fakes. He's going to disappear either way."

"Well, I can stop him from being located by anyone. So long as I were to make sure my staff knew exactly how to care for him in stasis, it should be workable," Tom replied. "You're suggesting this because his death may as well be useful?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I suppose the next one to anger me almost beyond reason can suffer the same fate, though I hope that does not actually happen again."

Harry grimaced, then applied himself to his food for some time before asking, "And what about Snape's mum? She can't go to St. Mungo's." He rather thought that Dumbledore would not view her victimization in any light other than that of what it was, and the reality of the situation could be far more damaging than it was already.

"No, she can't, but she is being cared for more than adequately. Even so, given that no one has ever found a way to restore the minds of the Longbottoms, I am not sure how I can help her."

"Not even muggle techniques?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin, Harry, though I suppose I can check into such things," he said with a shrug.

"I'm not saying they would have all the answers, but at least doing a little research might help give you some ideas," Harry explained. "Even though muggles can't do everything, neither can wizards, so there must be some middle ground which could apply to both. You also haven't really said much about the results of the fun had by all at Malfoy's house."

Tom shook his head. "There isn't much to say, really. Far too many of those students were there under duress from what I could tell. I don't much see the point in recruiting from among them aside from Malfoy himself. Perhaps one or two others." He shrugged.

Harry gave him a steady look. "I think you should wait on that. Unless there's an issue with the fact that he cannot show a Dark Mark off, I wouldn't bother marking him until after the term is out."

"Well, it isn't as though he's managed very well to find anyone worth Voldemort's while at this point, so marking him would be premature."

"Tom, what's going to happen once I have to go back?" Harry asked in a sudden change of subject. "You won't be anywhere close enough to talk to me."

Tom gave him a somewhat indulgent smile and replied, "The same as earlier. I'll find a place to live in temporarily. Being in London was close enough the last time, Harry. We will have to check, of course, if Dobby can jump you back and forth at that distance, though I don't see a problem if I find a place, or a hotel, not too far away."

"All right, just checking. I just don't like the idea of you being out of range."

"I'll have to keep reinforcing them anyway, Harry. You know they cannot decide to leave until we're ready to move ahead. However, I suggest this time around that you're seen out and about every so often."

Harry favored him with a sarcastic smile. "Of course. Merlin forbid anyone get the idea that I was being locked up or anything."

Tom smirked and said, "No, it's more that they might decide you're being a sulky brat or severely depressed."

Harry pouted and gave Tom a reproachful look, then sniffed dramatically and averted his gaze. Several minutes later, once Harry had decimated most of his food, he looked back over and said, "Regarding something said earlier, who's going to be me?"

"Preferably someone of the same height, Harry. I've been thinking about that, considering that we decided some time ago to use actual people, and looking into things. I know, it is possible that wizards may not pay attention to things a muggle would, but they might."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Were you aware that you can, within a certain range, determine things like age and sex from a skeleton? I think it would be wise to err on the side of caution and use someone near your own age and general build."

"Another student. Still, that raises another question. Wouldn't that mean Jensen might not be a wise choice, then?"

"Malfoy may not be all that successful in recruiting from among the population of Hogwarts, but that does not mean he hasn't been useful. And, Jensen may not be quite my age, but neither is he very young. I'm fairly certain that some tinkering will produce appropriate results. If not, I will simply have to use one of the Death Eaters from my own generation."

Harry didn't bother to ask why not use Malfoy himself. They might have the same general build, but Draco was noticeably taller. And, deciding that a spot of denial was in order (at least insofar as a future victim went), Harry proceeded to finish his breakfast, then bounce out of his seat and circle the table so he could lean against Tom, who eyed him in amusement.

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry aimed an innocent smile at Tom, then said, "I would really like that massage now."

"And will that massage lead to any debauchery or dissipation?"

Harry widened his eyes and said, "My, that's rather forward of you to ask. I suggest you indulge me and find out for yourself."

«« :: »»

Harry felt like bliss incarnate once Tom had spent a fair amount of time massaging nearly every inch of his body. And, he had somehow managed to make the rug in front of the fireplace seem as comfortable as their bed. Harry didn't think it was any surprise when he flipped over that he was very visibly aroused, nor that there was a decided gleam in Tom's eyes.

It was even less of a surprise when Tom gave up all pretense of making it up to Harry and instead began to stroke him in ways that deliberately inflamed his senses further, and Harry soon found himself writhing on the soft rug while moaning out his need for release. However, his bonded was not so kind as to acquiesce immediately.

In point of fact, Harry found his hands being pinned over his head again, though this time with magic, as Tom slowly began to prepare him. His bonded took his own sweet time of it before finally joining with him, and the part of Harry's mind that was not wholly caught up in pleasure wondered how it was, with feeling both his own and Harry's need, that Tom could possibly retain so much self control.

And then that thought was lost as Tom began to move in earnest while capturing Harry's mouth in a series of tender kisses, an odd melding of sweetness and savagery.

«« :: »»

"All right," Harry said as he idly traced patterns on the slick flesh of Tom's chest, "now that I've been properly apologized to—not that I am in any way condoning the idea that sex makes everything better, mind you—is it possible that we can devise a way to help Snape's mum?"

"You call that pillow talk?"

Harry cuffed Tom playfully. "I don't like things hanging over my head. And yes, I know, it's not exactly my problem, but. . . ."

"I understand, and I have been giving it some thought. Unfortunately, I did not have such an easy time as you at getting to sleep last night. Something you said a while back got me to wondering, actually."

"Which was?"

"Your comments on possession. As you pointed out, I am able to possess Nagini, and while she is not human, it does open the question of whether or not I could possess someone other than you. If that is possible, it may be that I could enter her mind to see if I could effect any changes for the better."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Well, that makes me wonder about how people say a person's mind has snapped. What if that's literal, in a certain sense? Or even, how when you protect your mind with Occlumency, it is, in a way, like locking things away, or dissolving the access bonds to memory—for anyone else, at least."

Tom shifted carefully so that he could lay on his side and face Harry directly. "Snapped in the sense that whatever it is that allows a person to access a memory is broken? Eileen is insane because she has no coherency of memory, no way to relate one memory to the next, perhaps?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "Maybe. A memory has so many unseen associations that if you snapped those bonds, it would be meaningless, right? I mean, when I smell you, memory produces a whole host of things associated with that scent. Without them, it's just a scent. When I see Hedwig, it's the same thing. I remember my first trip to Diagon Alley, Hagrid, getting my wand. . . ."

"And those things are linked, in turn, to others." Tom went silent for several minutes before saying, "If that were the case, it would be a monumental job to fix things."

"I think it's worth considering, and you did say you would check into muggle texts on this sort of thing. You might as well check wizarding ones, too. Even if you can't help in the end, no one could say you didn't try your very best, and I would like to think that Snape could appreciate that."

"Mm." Tom placed a soft kiss on Harry's lips, then said, "Let's go get cleaned up, and then we'll go see about your eyes."

«« :: »»

Tom spent an abundant amount of time considering Harry's thoughts on the matter of Eileen Snape, née Prince, though naturally he waited until he was alone to do so. They had gone to see an optometrist, as promised, and Tom was only mildly surprised to find that Harry's current set of glasses was not adequate for his present needs. Having not gotten around to determining if metamorphmagy could, in fact, assist in making glasses unnecessary, Harry had walked away from the shop with not only a new set of lenses in his glasses, but a supply of contact lenses. A quick stop into a muggle chemists had provided the necessary other items.

Harry had blinked rather a lot at first, then settled into a wide grin of happiness. "I must say, it's terribly nice to actually see things properly. But you know"—he paused and looked at Tom—"I actually wonder if I might have been compensating a bit without realizing it. I'm only just now realizing that while I could see almost as well as I do now, the difference wasn't enough to explain how badly my glasses were off. I also seem to be lacking . . . a sense of strain, or effort. I'm not quite sure how to explain it."

"I am very happy to hear that, Harry. It may be that my theory holds more validity than I had expected. In any case, you're set for now. And with any luck, after you've had a chance to become accustomed to those contacts, we might be able to figure out how to magic them so you need not remove them as a muggle would have to, nor use all that stuff. And if we do make all of it irrelevant, even better."

Harry nodded and changed the subject. "We really need to figure out something else for the Death Eaters to do. And the fact that they aren't actually killing anyone has got to have the Order scratching their heads."

Tom pursed his lips, then gave Harry a speculative look. "There is one thing I could have them do, but you might not like it." He paused, then said, "I could have them desecrating graveyards."

"What on earth for?"

"To create an army of Inferi. Animated corpses, that is." Tom was not surprised when Harry shuddered. "A muggle would call them zombies," he added.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then looked away and began fidgeting with his pendants. Eventually he looked back and said, "All right. However, would you as Voldemort actually create these . . . abominations? Or would you simply, er, put them back in the ground the second the Death Eaters were out of the room, so to speak?"

Tom considered, then nodded. "I don't see why not, Harry. The important part of the idea is to make Dumbledore and the Order believe Voldemort is gearing up for something big. That they never actually run across any Inferi is more or less irrelevant. Actually, that might make it more interesting."

"What, that they'd be badly wanting to know where the hell you're keeping them?"

"Yes. In any case, such a plan would keep the Death Eaters and the Order occupied for quite some time. In point of fact, if pressed to show something for the effort, I must admit I do have some Inferi stuffed in a dark hole somewhere already from years back. However, those corpses snatched for this I would bury again. The worst they would suffer from is being moved."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"If I should die before you, I would very much prefer you make sure I am cremated."

«« :: »»

Harry, despite his feelings about Hermione, had been thinking of late that perhaps it was time to try to talk to her about how she had been acting since his re-sort. And though he did not necessarily expect anything to change, he felt it would be wrong of him to continue to brush the matter off entirely without having at least made the attempt.

He happened upon her in the library, which was not an unusual place to find her, and was gratified, at least a little bit, that she had chosen to sit in a fairly unused section. He took a seat quietly and waited for her to acknowledge him, then said, "What's changed between us?"

"I don't know what you mean, Harry."

"Maybe I'm mistaken, but something has changed. We've been friends for five years, but lately all I seem to get from you are cool looks and logic, and that hurts me. Everything seemed fine on the train ride home from school last year, but sometime after that, things became different, and the only thing I can think of is that I was re-sorted. I don't understand, because of all people, especially among my friends, you would have been the person I thought would understand and support me."

She glanced up from her book long enough to say, "I never said I didn't support you, Harry."

"Then I guess I really don't understand what's changed. Yes, I knew that things wouldn't be as easy with us in different houses, but I didn't expect this. Since then it's seemed like you've been horribly distant."

"It was very friendly of you to refuse all communication for the first half of the summer," she murmured without looking up.

Harry blinked. Now how could he explain that without explaining that he had been locked away without access to Hedwig, or an open window for that matter? "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I needed time to grieve. The only time I went near an owl at first was to send Hedwig out to . . . the old crowd."

"And when you did write, you said nothing about that. We would have been happy to help, but you didn't want that. Even now you've said next to nothing. You've been our friend for five years, but you can't seem to talk to us about him. Well, I admit, I have no idea what things you say to Ron, but still."

Was that really her problem? "Have you ever lost someone close to you?" he asked quietly.

"No, but to all accounts, neither have you. You never knew your parents, Cedric wasn't more than a passing acquaintance, and you barely had any real time at all with Sirius. I fail to see the relevance of your question."

"You know he was my godfather. It's true I had very little time with him in person, but I always looked to him for advice from the moment I met him. You knew how happy I was at the idea of going to live with him, and you were happy for me."

"You spent a few weeks with him during the summer, and a few more at the holiday. That's not the same as five years of friendship, Harry."

He sat back in his chair, bewildered. She appeared to have absolutely no concept of just how much Sirius had meant to him, or had acknowledged his words, but had assigned no real depth to them. "So, I need time to grieve, and Sirius is a bit of a sensitive subject, and suddenly I'm . . . I don't know."

"Well, Harry, you weren't exactly a forthcoming person last year, either. It's simply worse now. I certainly can't keep an eye on you as before, so it's very difficult for me to know what's going on."

"Nothing is going on, that's the point. And, Hermione, forgive me, but you aren't my mother."

"Of course not. If I were, I could guarantee that you wouldn't be so stubborn and secretive." She flipped the page in her book and seemed to resume reading.

Harry clenched his jaw and considered, then said, "So, who do you fancy?"

Hermione looked up in surprise. "I don't see where that's your business."

"I thought we were friends. Don't friends tell each other everything? You aren't setting a very good example for me here."

She frowned and said, "Sarcasm again, Harry? My private life is just that, private."

"Then why isn't mine?"

"I'm not the Boy Who Lived," she countered.

Harry stared at her. "Since when am I that to you? You've always been one of the very few people to see beyond that, to see just Harry. Since when is it my duty to lay every aspect of my life bare?"

"It's not as though you've been able to properly protect your mind, Harry. You ought to be telling Professor Dumbledore everything. You don't really think you can fully and correctly interpret your visions on your own, do you?"

"Visions? What visions? I haven't had any, and Dumbledore knows that."

"Professor Dumbledore," she corrected automatically, then gave him an assessing look. "All right. So where are you on Sundays when you hide from everyone?"

Harry bit back his initial response and took a moment to calm himself. "I do not hide. I spend the day in my room, revising or looking to teach myself new things such as for the DA meetings. I'd be a poor teacher if I couldn't even do the things I wanted to teach others. Even Blaise could have told you that had you asked."

"Alone, Harry? You couldn't possibly do that with us?"

"The point of being alone is so that there aren't any distractions. And if you took the time to ask me about my marks this year, you'd know that I'm doing fine."

"Don't need us anymore?"

"I—why do you keep misinterpreting everything I say?"

"I'm not sure I am," she said coolly. "As it is, you spend more time on frivolous games with Ron than you do with the rest of us. Apparently, we don't matter any longer. I guess if we aren't somehow useful to you. . . ."

Harry narrowed his gaze and ran a hand through his hair roughly. "That's low, Hermione, really low. It's hard to be close to you when you barely speak a word to me anymore, and spend your time sniffing and turning up your nose whenever I'm around," he said as he slowly rose to his feet. "I think I'm not the only one to blame around here."

He turned and started to walk away, but did not get out of earshot before hearing her parting shot. "That's the problem, Harry. You simply don't think."

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	32. Intrusions

* * *

**— 32: Intrusions —**

* * *

Harry waited until he was back in his room to react, and at that, he simply called for Dobby to transport him to the Chamber's practice room. By the time Tom found him Harry had spent several minutes letting out the odd shriek or yell of frustrated anger, not to mention numerous spells. No doubt, it had been the noise that had drawn him.

Tom stood off to the side for a good thirty seconds, then said, "Hello, Harry. I assume there's a reason you've been auditioning for the role of banshee."

Harry turned around slowly to fully face Tom, then scowled. "Hermione."

Tom crossed his arms and tilted to lean against the wall. "Ah, then I'll assume that talk did not go well."

"Hardly. Honestly, I felt like smacking her. She—" Harry took a few steps and kicked the wall. "She misinterpreted nearly everything, deliberately, I'm sure. She accused me of not wanting to spend time with her, or the others, because they were no longer of any use to me. Well, except Ron, because obviously he amuses me."

"How does that make you feel? Beyond the obvious, that is."

Harry favored him with another scowl. "How could I have been so wrong back then? I truly thought it'd be Ron who'd go off at me being re-sorted. I thought Hermione, with her penchant for logic and reason, would at least think about it for a while. Instead, she's the one that immediately started flinging blame in my direction.

"And then. . . . First she gives me grief over not having written to her, them, about how I felt about Sirius's death. They would have been able to help me. Then she does an about face and brushes off my feelings for him entirely, saying I barely knew him, so what's the big deal anyway? She also more or less admitted that she's pissed off because she's lost whatever measure of control she had over me previously."

He paused, then turned a bit and shot off a blasting curse at one of the Fudge figures. "I'm almost tempted to shut down the DA, but that would be punishing the others because of her and they don't deserve that." After folding himself down to the floor he added, "And besides, something like that might have the effect of making the others think they ought to stop talking to her because of me. Well, that's assuming they'd be inclined to take sides. I know Ron would."

Tom pushed away from the wall and came to sit in front of him. "Are you surprised by this?"

"Not after this summer, no, but that doesn't make me any less angry."

"What do you plan on doing about it?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "Doing?" He furrowed his brow and looked away, then said, "Nothing, I suppose. I guess I'll keep right on treating her as I have been."

"All right. I do have a suggestion, though, if you'd like to hear it."

"Oh?"

«« :: »»

The DA meeting that evening was noticeably chilly as far as atmosphere went, and Harry was extremely thankful when he could call an end to it. As it was, he waited several minutes after the others left before shaking his head slowly and gathering up his things. Blaise and Ron were giving him peculiar looks, but he ignored them.

"Let's go," he said, then waited for Ron to disappear from sight. He nodded and stepped into the doorframe, then stopped dead as he noticed a disillusioned Hermione lurking not far down the hall. A split second later he rolled his eyes and turned, saying, "You could have told me I forgot the book," before stepping back inside.

"Ron, come out," he whispered, "and don't ask questions."

Ron appeared with a puzzled look. "Oh sure, blame it on me," he said.

"Maybe I meant either of you," Harry retorted and flexed his fingers. "Come on, let's go. I'm sure our snack is waiting for us." He turned again and headed out the door, this time with both Blaise and Ron visible, and said, "I think Ginny is doing fine as seeker."

Ron, playing along, said, "Yeah, but she'll never be as good as you, Harry. What do you think of Demelza?"

Harry kept his focus ahead as they passed Hermione and said, "I think she makes for a fair chaser. I'm not so sure about that McLaggen fellow, though."

Blaise shook his head and laughed. "Oh, no. If you two are going to go on about quidditch, I'm heading back to my room. I'll see you later." He took off at a fast clip, quickly disappearing.

And so it went, with rambling quidditch talk as they walked. Harry could not tell if Hermione was actually following them, though, as he could not turn around to check, and he could not hear any footsteps. However, he would have been surprised had she not accounted for that detail.

A short time later they were inside the kitchens, sitting at one of the tables and enjoying a snack. And, given that the door was not directly visible from where they were sitting, Harry wondered if Hermione would dare to follow them, or if she would have given up in disgust over their destination. Unfortunately, it wasn't as though he could whip out the map and check to see if she had gone to the tower, or was lurking outside impatiently.

He was in the middle of sketching a play on a piece of parchment when he noticed her arrive, the glow still present to tell him she remained disillusioned. A minute later he said, "So what do you think of this?"

Ron pulled the parchment over and nodded, then said, "It might work. I can bring it up with the team and see if they want to give it a go."

Harry grinned and nodded. "Do they have any idea I've been helping?"

Ron pulled a face. "A Slytherin? Helping Gryffindor? The horror."

Hermione eventually drifted off, causing Harry to sigh softly. At that point he had a brilliant idea. _:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry.:_

_:If you're able, could you please check the map to see where Hermione is presently?: _He pretended to study the latest sketch while he waited, shaking his head slightly at Ron to forestall any questions.

_:She's currently moving at a brisk pace, presumably toward Gryffindor tower. At any rate, she's already gone past the second floor. What's wrong?:_

_:I'll explain in a couple of minutes.:_ Harry slid the parchment off the table and stood, shoving it into his bag, then jerked his head at Ron and headed toward the door. They bypassed the stairs again, allowing Ron to go invisible within the secret passage (but not before checking for any tracking charms), and slipped into Harry's room shortly thereafter.

A quick call to Dobby landed him in the Chamber library, where Tom was sitting with a book in one hand. Harry threw himself into a chair and scowled.

"For what it's worth, she's back in lion territory, Harry."

"She was spying on us," Harry said as Ron appeared and took a seat. "She was waiting outside for when we left, disillusioned. Maybe her curiosity about what Ron and I do finally got to her, I don't know."

"I dunno what you're going to tell Blaise," Ron said. "I'm sure he's curious as to why the plans changed so suddenly."

Harry shook his head. "I'll figure something out. That is, if he bothers to ask. I felt uneasy or something. I'm going to be very annoyed if she keeps this up, though."

"There isn't much more than a few months left until the end of term, Harry," Tom pointed out. "And while she could become an excessively wearisome trial on your patience, it wouldn't be for that much longer."

"Er, did something happen earlier today?" Ron asked.

Harry let out his breath explosively and dropped his head back. "Yes. I went to talk to her, you see, about. . . ." Five minutes later he was done explaining, and Ron was on his feet pacing around angrily. "Look, Ron, try not to treat her much differently than you already are, please?"

Ron stopped long enough to shoot him an incredulous look.

"I mean it. I don't want us doing anything that would serve to confirm whatever point it is she thinks she has. Snubbing her completely might just make her that much more pushy about things."

"All right, Harry, but only because it's you asking."

"Thank you. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if she expects that almost the first thing I'd do is tell you what happened earlier. If you don't change how you act around her, it might make her think maybe I haven't. And if she thinks I'm not actually confiding in you, either, she might actually tell you something." He shrugged.

Ron wandered back over to a chair and sat down. "Maybe. But you can't expect me not to be angry about this."

"No, I can't, and I don't."

"Harry, try to remember to contact me as the meetings are breaking up. I will keep an eye on the map, all right? If she does try again, at least you'll know before you think to exit the room."

«« :: »»

Harry was busy tucking into his dinner Monday evening when he became aware of the prickling sensation of being watched, and raised his head cautiously. A moment later he realized the first years across the table were staring at him with a mixture of wariness and . . . hope? He glanced back down for a second, a slight frown creasing his forehead, then looked up and raised his brows questioningly.

One of them jerked slightly to the side and shot a bit of a glare at his seat mate, then bit his lip and looked back at Harry. "We, er, were wondering if maybe you would help us with Defense?" the boy asked haltingly.

Harry blinked in surprise and scratched his forehead, glancing over at Blaise briefly. "I suppose I could. I mean, I don't see why not."

"Really?" the boy said a bit more brightly.

He started to speak, hesitated, then said, "Yeah. If you're having trouble. . . . Though, why me?"

"Everybody says you're brilliant at it, and. . . ." The boy bit his lip again.

Harry wondered if they had been paying far more attention to his conversations with Blaise than he'd been aware of, and if that had anything to do with it. Well, aside from the obvious fact that Flaxweld was an idiot. "All right. How does once a week sound?"

The boy looked at the other first years, then back, and nodded.

"Well, what about Saturdays after lunch, then? Though, if you like, we can meet in my room after we're done eating tonight to discuss things."

The boy glanced at his year mates again, then said, "Okay."

Harry nodded. "Once we're done, then, you lot can follow me to my room. You're not going to mind if Blaise is there, are you?"

The boy shook his head.

A half hour later Harry and Blaise were sitting in his room with nine first years, five male and four female. Once introductions were out of the way, Harry asked what the problem was, and was overrun with a plethora of complaints about Flaxweld. Harry had to laugh at that, sharing an amused look with Blaise.

"All right, all right. Do you guys want to go over the whole year, or just from this point on?"

"Erm, all of it?" Blair said after glancing at his mates. "If that's okay."

"It's fine. We can go over whatever Flaxweld covers with you each week, then backtrack for the second half of our time. One of you needs to bring along a syllabus next time so I know for sure what to cover from before. All right? Okay, off you go, then, and we'll meet back here after lunch on Saturday."

The nine of them bounced to their feet and trooped out, so Harry turned to Blaise. "Huh. I suppose I should let Professor Snape know about this, not that I care much about the house points involved."

"Might as well. For all you know, if you don't, and he finds out, he might be annoyed that he didn't have the excuse to give them."

Harry grinned and shrugged. "Well, I'm going to take a shower."

"All right. I'll see you in the morning, then."

As soon as Blaise was gone Harry called for Dobby to request a jump to the library. He idly wondered why they had bothered to set up a lounge when they almost never seemed to use it. Tom was not there, however, so Harry wandered off to the bedroom with the intent of using the tub in their bathroom, only to find his bonded already soaking in it. Harry arched a brow and stripped quickly, thinking that they never had actually been naughty in the bathroom, and wondering if Tom was game for further experimentation. As it turned out, he was, and Harry never did get around to mentioning his new set of students just then.

«« :: »»

"Sir," Harry said, "something happened last night that I thought you might like to know about."

Snape raised his brows slightly and tilted his head.

"The Slytherin first years approached me at dinner, so to speak. They asked me if I would tutor them in Defense. Apparently, they're not all that thrilled with how things have been going so far. At any rate, I agreed. Blaise will be helping me."

"I see. Should I assume you are informing me out of courtesy, and not due to the house points awarded for such things?"

Harry gave a half smile and nodded. "Yes, sir, though I do recall that you did bring it up during that meeting first night. Still, I cannot say with any truth that it matters all that much to me whether points are awarded or not. They asked for help, and I'm happy to give it."

Snape gazed at him steadily, then nodded. "Nevertheless, points will be awarded. How often do you plan on meeting with them?"

"At present, once a week, sir. I think with both myself and Blaise we can get through whatever they've, er, been introduced to in class that week, plus go over parts of whatever they've already . . . covered in the past. If not, I'll just have to set aside more time for them."

"If the frequency changes, I expect you will be informing me?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Very well. If that was all, I suggest you take the time to read up on methods of determining how to devise an antidote for any given poison." After arching his brow, Snape looked down and resumed marking a paper from where he had left off.

Harry stood there for a second, then moved to sit at the first table and take out his Potions text, wondering just when Snape had crossed over the line from being merely civil to being actively helpful. However, he wasn't inclined to question the change. Not openly, at least. He discounted Snape's actions on the night Tom had lost control of himself as not being in quite the same vein. That, after all, had absolutely nothing to do with school.

In point of fact, he had been rather touched that Snape had been that gentle with him. Even his threats had come across as being more habit than heartfelt. Harry gave a mental shrug and opened his book, flipping to the chapter Snape had suggested, and set about reading. He had only read through the first few pages when a muttered, "Damn it," made him look up in abrupt confusion to see Snape staring fixedly at the door.

A second later Snape stood and said, "Stow that book, now. No questions. Just play along."

Harry blinked, but did as requested, shoving it into his bag quickly, then stood when Snape gestured.

"Wand." The moment it was in Harry's hand Snape nodded, glanced at the door, then said, "So, Mr Potter, let us see just how well you've been keeping up with your studies, shall we? Nod when you're ready."

Harry wanted very badly to shake his head, but resisted. Instead, knowing full well that he could handle anything Snape threw at him, he nodded, and was hit with an attempt to break into his mind a moment later, which he quickly threw off without bothering with his wand.

Snape arched a brow. "Adequate. But one attempt is hardly a deciding factor, now is it? Again, nod when—"

The door opened, causing them both to look over. Dumbledore was standing there, a gentle smile gracing his face, and not a little curiosity. "Good evening, Severus, Harry."

Harry nodded, more to express the confirmation of his suspicion than as a greeting, and said, "Hello, sir."

"I thought I'd drop by to see how things were progressing."

Harry smiled, knowing such a response could be interpreted in a number of different ways by the headmaster, and angled his head slightly. _:Tom? The old man is being a pest again.:_

"If you're not adverse to the idea, Harry, I thought I might see for myself just how well you've come along with your studies."

_:Lovely. Don't worry, Harry. I'm fully confident you can hold him off. And if I do feel you having trouble, I will assist you.:_

Harry appeared to consider that, then turned his gaze on Snape. "Do you think I'm ready, sir?"

Snape arched a brow (though Harry rather thought he saw the man's mouth twitch suspiciously) and said, "If not, Potter, you may be sure I will be working you that much harder so as to assure your ability to live up to the headmaster's expectations of you."

Harry allowed himself to appear somewhat uncertain about that pronouncement, then turned an artless gaze on Dumbledore. "Yes, of course, sir. You. . . ."

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a birdlike tilt of his head.

Harry bit his lip, then said, "You won't, er. . . ." He shook his head and took a breath, then stood up quite straight. "It's nothing, sir. I'm ready."

Dumbledore twinkled at him, then said, "I shan't go too hard on you, Harry." Then he raised his wand and cast.

Harry could feel it, that was for certain. He could also feel his guardian rising up to meet the attack, the intrusion, and fend it off. What he wasn't sure of was just how much effort the old man had put into the attempt.

"Nicely done, Harry. I shall try again with a bit more power. Are you prepared?"

Harry waited a moment, then nodded. And again, the headmaster cast at him, with exactly the same results.

"Very nicely done, Harry. I am quite pleased. My compliments, Severus. This is very encouraging. I think I'll let you two get back to your lesson, then." He bestowed a twinkly little smile on each of them, then disappeared back out the door, closing it behind him.

Harry waited, doing nothing more than turning a curious gaze on Snape. It was a good thirty seconds or more before Snape gave him a nod, at which point Harry rolled his eyes, holstered his wand, and sat back down.

_:You know, Harry, he put rather a lot of power into that second cast.:_

Harry let out a faint snort. _:I am happy that you can tell things like that.:_ And on seeing the expectant look on Snape's face, Harry tapped the side of his head and said, "Just thoughts, sir. However, I've come to realize just now that I have no earthly idea of just how strong those were."

Snape gave him a rather curious look and resumed his seat. "Interesting. I'm sure we can discuss that in more depth, later, in a more appropriate location."

Harry nodded and reached into his bag to retrieve his Potions book and flip back to the correct chapter. _:And just what does that translate to?:_

_:Well, I could certainly do better, and have. I'm more concerned with what he was thinking. Granted, we both already speculated that he might attempt to test you himself.:_

_:You mean because he seemed almost disappointed at Halloween.:_

_:Yes. It might simply be that he's pleased that you and Severus have stood down long enough to actually get something done. So to speak.:_

_:Perhaps. But really, just what is it he expects? Let's say Snape and I do get along like a house on fire. What of it? Let's say I got inducted into the Order. It would be lovely to believe that we wouldn't half kill each other verbally over the meeting table, but aside from that? I've never understood why he wanted us to get along, especially given that Snape is not the same sort of spy as he was.:_

_:Keep in mind, Harry, that not all has to be as it seems. He might simply be annoyed that his people haven't always followed his . . . suggestions . . . as promptly or faithfully as he might like. By the way, interesting little show you put on there.:_

Harry smiled softly._ :Well, hopefully it served its purpose. Though, I'm not sure if what I did comes across as being cowed by Snape, or. . .?:_

_:Either, I suppose. He seemed to be in an awfully good mood when he left. I'm not going to worry about it for the moment. And you, my dear little spy, probably ought to get going on that chapter.:_

_:Yes, my dear little slave driver. I shall do that.:_

«« :: »»

"I'm not sure what to think," Severus said. "Obviously, I did not expect him to appear like that."

"At least you can tell when someone is approaching the classroom, sir," Harry commented.

"Paranoia has its advantages."

"All right. At least he's done the expected in this case, though without warning." Tom turned to face Harry specifically and said, "Yes, there was rather a lot of power behind that second attempt. Certainly more than I would have expected given his statement of going easy on you."

Harry shook his head. "It really isn't easy for me to tell strength. Under normal circumstances, I never would have known anything was odd about that."

"Which may or may not suit his purposes," Tom said. "Though, given how pleased he appeared to be, perhaps he will not be bothering you again on that matter."

"Do you think maybe he doesn't seem to care because Voldemort hasn't been doing anything horrifically overt?"

"You wouldn't be having visions anyway."

Harry nodded. "I'm not of much interim use if there's nothing for me to see, right?"

"That would suggest that Dumbledore has abandoned his ideas about you serving as an unwitting spy," Snape said.

Harry gave him an intent look, then glanced away. "Speaking of spies. . . ."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would there be any value in Professor Snape telling the headmaster about the tutoring I'm doing?"

"Are you suggesting that he might see such an endeavor as you"—Snape paused to shoot a look at Tom—"converting the heathens?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. After all, if I manage to get every first year on my side. . . . And it's possible that if I did that, they might start telling me things, stuff they overhear. Let's face it, since I returned this year, nearly no one is willing to talk to me, never mind approach me. Granted, I think you both know I would help them either way. I'm just considering the impression this might have on the old man."

There was silence for a short time, then Tom chuckled. "He might think you were taking the sorting hat's songs to heart and working toward breaking down house barriers."

Snape snorted as Harry said, "Well, I'm not sure it would occur to him that I was doing it for the points. He does at least know I'm not the type to actively pursue that kind of aim, so it's not unreasonable to think he may see it that way. It would be a Gryffindor sort of thing to do."

"If you think you can put the right sort of spin on it, Severus, I see no reason why you should neglect to bring it up with him."

Snape nodded, then said, "On other subjects, Dumbledore is reacting about as we expected to the reports filtering in regarding those graveyards."

"Good. Then perhaps that will keep everyone occupied for quite some time. Though, I think I will abandon my house before this is all said and done. While it's good that I have as much land, I am becoming less enamored of the place as each new shipment of coffins is sunk back into the ground."

Harry snickered softly and nodded. "I did think it was a bit dreary there. Besides, there's all that space and no real use for it. Surely we can find a home for later that suits our needs rather than making do with what you already have."

"We might also want to consider your friends. After all, they will no doubt be shocked to find out just how much of your fortune you've left them, Harry, so we could look toward settling in an area they can also enjoy. I would not be surprised if they would wish to find homes for themselves near you."

Severus arched a brow as Harry responded, "Yeah. It would be nice to be able to walk next door, so to speak, to visit, rather than having to apparate or whatever. Do you think it would raise too many bad memories if we investigated Godric's Hollow?" He paused for a moment, then deliberately said, "I don't know if it would upset Remus or not."

"Then ask," Severus said flatly.

"I suppose I could. Well, I guess this is all beside the point. If we're lucky, the desecration will keep everyone busy and out of our hair until the summer. Oh, and maybe when we do move ahead with the final battle, you could haul out the Inferi you do actually have stuffed in a cupboard to be present, even if it's only to have them there to be found. It shouldn't matter if the Order can't find evidence of the remainder of the supposed army."

"I could move them, but not until nearer the time. It might be that the Order would destroy them after they find them."

"I would not be surprised," Severus said. Then he muttered, "By a lot of things."

Harry thought that revelation had gone over fairly well. "Should I be at all worried about his strength, do you think?"

"Dumbledore?" Tom shook his head. "Not really. Even if he is more powerful than we anticipate, I can add my strength to your own. He would have to fight past both of us. I find it hard to believe that he could hold _that_ much power."

Tom turned to Severus and said, "About Malfoy. Has he told you anything interesting of late?"

"No. He merely whines. He continues to be disgusted that Potter is off limits. However, he has been somewhat smug of late, so I can only assume given so little real information that he feels his current assignment is successful thus far."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that. I held some small hope that Malfoy would confide in you, but apparently that isn't the case. Perhaps you should make it clear to him that Voldemort expects reports from him on his progress. He risks decided displeasure over being so reticent."

"I would be happy to unleash a few subtle threats, Tom. Consider it done."

«« :: »»

Harry ran into more chill behavior on Wednesday evening, but ostensibly ignored it, though he could see that Ron was trying very hard to appear puzzled over the frigidity of the relations between Harry and Hermione rather than angry. He did check in with Tom before they began to pack up to leave, and Hermione was waiting for them again, which made Harry livid and occasioned another detour into the kitchens before they were able to move on to Harry's room a while later. Dobby joined them after they had settled in.

"I've been thinking, Dobby," Harry said, "about what we're to do once I as Harry Potter am dead."

"What is master meaning?"

"Well, it might look suspicious if you were to disappear from the school at the same time."

"Dobby is not abandoning master," the elf said firmly.

"Yes, I know that. But I was thinking, perhaps, that since Tom and I plan on living in the Chamber for at least a year, you could stay on at Hogwarts, just like we've been doing this year, and no one would be the wiser. If we decided to move after that point, you could always quit your employment here."

"What if Dumbledore wanted to know why?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe Dobby was honoring my memory by remaining through what would have been my last year, but past that, he just couldn't bear to stay. It isn't like anyone would begin to try to use veritaserum on a house elf, and besides, you lot are very blunt about when you refuse to speak on something, and why. The idea of a house elf fibbing is quite nearly ridiculous, don't you think?"

"House elves is not lying without orders, master, and most house elves is being very bad at it."

Harry grinned. "Yes, all right, but I think you'd be able to Dobby. And it wouldn't entirely be a lie anyway."

"It is being true that Dobby could not bear to stay if master moved elsewhere. Dobby would only be staying if master ordered it."

"Not that I would. I know you're bonded to me and all, but I really think of you as more of a friend, Dobby."

"Dobby can always have a fit of hysterics if Dumbledore gets curious," Ron suggested.

"Dobby is being able to do that, too."

"Well, let's sit on that for a bit, shall we? We can talk more about it later if necessary. But since we're all here, do you feel like updating me on how things are going with Crest?"

«« :: »»

By the time Saturday rolled around, Harry was feeling hard pressed to maintain his casually civil relationship with Hermione. The more he thought about her attempts to find out what he was up to, the more upset he became, and was grateful for Tom's reminders about how little time was left before it would no longer be an issue.

The Slytherin first years trooped along behind him and Blaise after lunch (Harry had already told the portrait in his room to send any reports that might come in down to the Chamber while they were present) and Anika had handed over a syllabus as soon as they had all found places to sit.

Harry quickly realized that what they were being taught wasn't all that difficult, though it differed a bit from what he remembered from his first year, and that it was very unlikely that more than one session per week would be necessary.

He wondered, though, if they would continue to seek out Blaise the following year for assistance, and if they would become a different kind of Slytherin from the established norm, eventually helping to renovate the reputation their house had held for centuries.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	33. Death

* * *

**— 33: Death —**

* * *

By the time several weeks had passed Harry had himself a group of first years who thought he was the next best thing to sliced bread, and their opinion of Blaise was quite similar. They seemed to greatly appreciate the fact that Harry and Blaise did not play politics within the house, and in fact, were willing to discuss just about anything but. That is, after their lessons were over.

Harry didn't particularly care that the children had nothing of importance to impart to him about other members of Slytherin, or anyone else for that matter. He _was_ pleased to note that they had formed up as a tightly knit group that looked out for each other, which according to Blaise, simply wasn't the done thing. It was every man for himself in Slytherin, unless you managed to hold enough power to command others to do your bidding.

It seemed as though nothing much was going on aside from Hermione's continued attempts to catch him and Ron at something that constituted being up to no good. Eventually, however, she seemed to have given up, though Harry and Ron kept to the new routine. Harry's treatment of her remained the same, and Ron assured him that he was acting quite clueless about anything potentially deeply secretive that Harry might have confided to him.

Hermione appeared to take that as a sign that Harry had been just as tight-lipped with him as her and subsided to some degree, at least around Ron. She might not be happy about his continued indulgence in frivolity—the NEWTs were only a year away—but she did ease up in general.

It was a sunny Saturday morning when Harry received another note during breakfast, again delivered by Hedwig. Naturally, he was suspicious as soon as he spotted her winging toward him, but pushed that aside as he fussed over his owl and offered to share his meal with her. Once she had flown off he opened the note.

_Harry,_

_I would be pleased if you would see me directly you're finished  
with breakfast, in my office. The password is Licorice Allsorts._

_A. Dumbledore_

He gave a slight sigh and pushed the note into his pocket, then added more food to his plate to replace what Hedwig had taken._ :Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry? You know, you've really got to stop waking me up so early. I keep telling you, dark lords are nocturnal creatures.:_

_:And if I were offering sex? Would you be so disagreeable then?:_

_:That, my dear Harry, is an entirely different situation, I assure you. Now, what is it?:_

_:Another note from the pest. Wants to see me again after breakfast.:_

After a bit of a pause Tom responded, _:I see. I had hoped he would leave you alone for a while after that last incident.:_

_:Well, he did go against Snape's prediction, so I wouldn't put anything past him. He didn't say anything about why, and he managed to get Hedwig to deliver it again. Speaking of which, I know there aren't all that many snowy owls in the community, so we need to consider ways in which to disguise her.:_

_:You can blame Hagrid for picking out the rarest owl in the shop, then. But yes, I agree. Had Hedwig been a barn owl or such, it wouldn't be an issue. I know you won't abandon her, so I'll add that to my list.:_

A short time later, after he had told Blaise where he was off to, Harry made the walk to the headmaster's office at an even pace, not wanting to appear either that he was anxious or that he was deliberately dawdling. Once inside and having had seated himself at Dumbledore's gesture, Harry looked up attentively.

"There were a few things I wanted to discuss with you, Harry."

"All right, sir."

"First, I wanted to bring up the fact that you still seem to be rather isolated this year, and wondered if there was a problem of any kind."

Harry blinked slowly and said, "Isolated? Sir, I don't think my situation differs all that much from before. After all, most people would rather believe what the media has to say about me than bother to get to know me, so it isn't as though I had many close friends. The biggest difference now is that I have a friend in Slytherin, which might have been impossible previously."

"And yet," Dumbledore countered, "you seem to have less people than before willing to spend time in your company. Or, perhaps, you are less willing to spend time in theirs."

Harry furrowed his brow as Tom sent, _:That's an interesting accusation.:_

"I suppose you could say that, sir. It is true that a lot of people were put off by my re-sort. It's almost as though they think I've changed or something, though I can't imagine why. I thought it was rather peculiar last year that as many people decided to join the DA, and still displayed a marked distrust of me despite that decision." He shrugged lightly and added, "I'm not sure I really understand people. I'm not really sure I understand myself for that matter."

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "And what of the DA? Has that continued?"

Harry ducked his head for a moment, trying his best to arrange his expression into being somewhat stricken, then looked back up. "I should have asked you, sir, shouldn't I. I'm sorry. I just thought that you were perfectly all right with it last year, so. . . ."

"I have no objection to your group, Harry. I am pleased to know that you have continued to remain focused, and that you continue to assist your friends."

Harry brightened and launched into several minutes of explanation of things they had been working on, concluding with their recent efforts to incorporate other branches of magic into their repertoire of defensive knowledge, all while ignoring Tom's comments about his ability at acting. "I'm still rather disappointed, though, that Professor McGonagall tells me I'll need to wait until auror training before I can really learn what I need."

"I'm sure you will have no problems with that once you finish your seventh year. Until that time, I believe you are well on your way. However, that does not address the issue of isolation, Harry."

"I really don't mind, sir. I mean, I've always been isolated, don't you think? People have always been interested in me for all the wrong reasons, so I'm very lucky to have friends who don't really care about that stuff." He paused for a moment, then said, "Oh! You might like to know that I've been helping the first year Slytherins with Defense."

Dumbledore raised his brows marginally.

"I'm really pleased with them, sir. They're becoming a rather cohesive group, and I think that in the years to come, they'll not only understand that working as part of a team can be greatly to their benefit, but also that a former Gryffindor isn't such a bad thing. You know how the sorting hat has been telling us for several years that we need to break down the barriers and stick together, learn how to overcome our differences. It's all very well to consider how something affects you personally, but I think they're on their way to also seeing the larger picture."

"I find that to be very encouraging news, Harry."

_:Yes, of course he does. You're a one man propaganda machine, Harry.:_

"I'm hoping that the first years next year will also be willing to see things from a broader point of view, and be a lot more open to crossing the line, especially if this year's group helps them out as well. I could actually imagine that at some point Slytherin house could lift itself up out of the rather nasty reputation it has."

"I think you are setting a very good example for them," Dumbledore commented, "and this does relieve some of my concerns. How did this come about?"

"Oh, they asked me at dinner one night, sir. I was really surprised at first, but maybe it's just that Blaise and I sit at that end of the table and they've been listening while we talk about stuff. Maybe I didn't seem so . . . I don't know . . . untouchable? It would be nice to believe that they might be able to grow up knowing that they have options. That they can be Slytherin without feeling as though they must join Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, then said, "Again, encouraging. In that case, we shall move along to the next topic. It has recently come to my attention that Voldemort considers the link between the two of you as much of a threat as a benefit. To that end, reports indicate that he has been occluding his mind so that you cannot inadvertently learn anything from him about his plans. Therefore, it is just as well that you seem to be doing well with your own lessons, as that means he cannot attempt another of his underhanded manipulation schemes."

Harry appeared to consider that, ostensibly ignoring the snort of derision that sounded in his mind, then said, "Do you think that's why I've been able to sleep so much better, sir?"

"That is very likely, Harry. It may be that after your vision of Nagini's attack, he realized that he could draw you in, and then formulated his plans to lure you to the Ministry. However, I would not doubt he decided after the fact that we would be prepared for further incursions, and that it was possible you could learn as much from him, and so began closing himself off. At any rate, perhaps we should discuss the prophecy to some extent."

Harry hesitated, then said with a touch of reluctance, "Yes, if you think that's best, sir."

"There will come a time, Harry, when you and Voldemort will face off as equals. I have no doubt that you will defeat him."

"Yes, but. . . ."

"But you wonder exactly how. I told you once before that love has a great deal to do with it. You, Harry, have something Voldemort can never possess. He cannot understand it, and therefore fears it. You have the capacity to care about others, and to feel and experience things he never would, being mired as he is within the darker emotions we as a species are capable of."

"I'm not sure I understand, though, sir."

"Part of your power comes from your emotions, Harry, and love is a thing of purity. It also allows you to draw to you others who would assist you, and that in turn gives you additional power. Voldemort feeds off pain, despair, and similar things. You might think that would make him far more powerful than you could ever be, but it is simply not so. Your source of strength is part of why I have been concerned about your isolation, though I can see that you are making strides toward making more friends, and that can only benefit you further."

_:Yes, like a leech,:_ Tom commented, causing Harry's mouth to twitch.

"The dark uses fear as a weapon, wielding it to drive others to a sense of hopelessness and despair. Those who are wise enough reject such manipulation and stand firm against those tactics. Even as the dark will have a dark lord, the light will produce a champion, whether by design or circumstance. And though the dark will attempt to subdue others and force them into submission, it is always a temporary situation, and the light has and always will prevail."

"And I'm that champion," Harry said softly.

"Yes. And you have proven repeatedly that you are able to stand against Voldemort, Harry."

Harry frowned slightly and shook his head slowly. "And I've always had to be rescued, sir."

"Only because you were not quite ready yet, Harry. You have still managed to thwart his plans at every turn. It has only been when it became apparent that you were at your current limits that intervention was required."

_:That's fairly close to an admission of grooming me like some show pony.:_

"I found it very encouraging that you forced Voldemort to retreat this last time, without any help whatsoever, which brings us back to the source of your power against him. I would like for you to keep that firmly in mind, Harry, as the days go by, and consider how it has applied to your confrontations in the past. I think you'll find that it has played an immeasurable part of your success to date."

"All right, sir."

"Then unless you have any questions, you may run along, Harry."

"Thank you, sir."

Once out in the relative safety of the corridor he sent, _:I can't say that I'm entirely surprised by that meeting.:_

_:No, though I think much of what he said was pointless. Still, if you were what you appear to be, I suppose it might matter.:_

_:Yes, but do you think he was reassured? He seemed happier after I mentioned the first years.:_

_:It is possible he thinks you are, in fact, down there converting the heathens. If you were to be successful in diverting the current crop from a theoretical lifetime of servitude to a dark lord, they could, as you implied, pass that on to further years, starting a snowball effect of change.:_

_:But not necessarily the years above.:_

_:No, but it's already apparent that not everyone is willing to see Malfoy as an example of a good Slytherin, and they obviously aren't queuing up to join Voldemort, either. I take his willingness to bring up the prophecy to be a good thing, Harry.:_

_:What, that he doesn't believe anything is wrong in connection with me, and that it's time to move things up a notch as far as my upcoming victory?:_

_:I'm saying that what he had to say isn't entirely baseless. However, I think he's oversimplifying things. There will always be cycles of light and dark. He's trying to wind up your confidence in anticipation of the next changeover.:_

_:It sounds to me as though he doesn't really understand that prophecy,:_ Harry retorted.

_:That could also be true.:_

«« :: »»

In that same amount of time, Tom had taken to frequently visiting his home to check up on Severus's mother, and to see if his forays into her mind produced any substantive results. He was slowly coming to realize that while Harry's speculations held some merit, they were not entirely accurate. Eileen was not so much insane as disconnected from reality.

Insofar as Tom could tell, she wasn't aware of the real world. It was as though the defenses of the mind created a barrier to protect her 'self' from the pain of torture, and having come into being, it also locked her away from reality. Naturally, all of this was related to Harry once Tom had arrived at his preliminary conclusions.

"Then I suppose the question is how long do you think it would take to get her back, and what would it entail?" asked Harry as he reached for another helping of roast potatoes.

"I think," Tom said ponderously, "that I would need you to act as an anchor for me, to ensure that I did not somehow get lost within her mind. As for how long, I cannot say for certain."

Harry nodded and poured more gravy on his plate, then said, "Well, all right. If you think she's in no danger of worsening, is it something we should put off until after the showdown, or should we begin sooner?"

"She's under the very best of care. I think that so long as I check in every so often and she remains as she is, it would be better for us to wait until later. It would be preferable to keep things on an even keel until that point, and I have no idea how much energy it will take for us to accomplish our goal for her. On an unrelated note, should we be expecting Remus to visit soon?"

"Eh?" Harry blinked and tilted his head. "You mean because of Easter?" When Tom nodded he continued, "I'll ask. The pest may have him off on another pointless mission. I assume you're asking because you don't object if he can."

"I don't object," Tom assured him. "And even if I did, I would put up with him because of what he means to you. Unlike our dear Severus, I will not judge him based on the past, and certainly not one in which I had no real part."

Harry thought about that for a moment and nodded, then said, "And besides, you like him."

"That I do."

«« :: »»

Things began to come to a head shortly after Easter break. Remus had, in fact, quietly slipped into Tom's Hogsmeade house and alerted Harry of his presence via a nondescript owl, and it was no trouble for Dobby to fetch him to the Chamber complex for another visit.

And while they did spend some of that time discussing their plans for Harry's departure from his aunt's house on Privet Drive, and what was to come after, they mainly focused on enjoying each other's company. Harry chose not to bring up the subject of Godric's Hollow just yet, preferring to wait until after things had been resolved.

What was more interesting was a rather guarded conversation that had taken place in the library between Remus and Severus. Harry, who had been quietly talking with Tom, could not help but overhear a discussion about the last prank his group had done, and thoughts on a possible final prank for the year. Naturally, this surprised Harry greatly, as he would never in a million years have thought Snape would willingly be a part of such a discussion, never mind offer up ideas on the subject.

A slightly tilted head and arched brow informed Harry without words that Tom was also paying attention to the other two men, and was likewise surprised. Neither made verbal comment on it, preferring to wait to see if either Remus or Severus would to them, and instead they continued their own conversation. As it was, the subject remained unbroached to them, but it did give Harry a somewhat interesting idea.

«« :: »»

"I hereby call this meeting to order," Harry stated firmly while rapping his knuckles thrice on the table beside him.

"By what authority?" he was challenged.

Harry paused, blinked, then said, "Because I said so?"

"Oh, well, that's all right, then," Ron said agreeably, then grabbed an eclair from a waiting plate of snacks.

Blaise arched a brow. "I take it that means you've thought of something else to do—since you're being so authoritative, that is."

"Of course. Though, it's not an exceptional idea. And it's not so much a prank as simply providing a bit of harmless fun for everyone. Who knows, it might cut down on some of the stress people are feeling about upcoming exams. Assuming you two think it's worth doing, we'll have to start researching the best way to go about it, and pick a date."

«« :: »»

They had to wait for the last shift of prefects to return to their dorms before they began their work, and chose to do so while disillusioned. Much like before, it would not be long before the first early-rising students would be getting up and heading down for breakfast, so they needed to work quickly and quietly on their last effort of the school year, and be sure not to be caught out by their own machinations.

And once they were finished with the group work, Ron skittered up the main staircase and began trapping the area the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students would be using, while Harry took care of the Hufflepuffs and Blaise the Slytherins. Luckily, the secret passage Harry needed to use came out beyond where Blaise needed to enchant, so it wasn't as though he need worry about counter spelling himself on the short journey back to their house.

When Harry and Blaise did emerge in order to head to breakfast, they willingly stepped into the spelled zone and immediately felt quite a bit of bounce in their step, and saw a message flash before them in the air above the center of the entrance hall.

_Step carefully, or don't,  
Either way you won't,  
Walk as mortals do.  
Reach the heights or fall,  
Collide with the wall,  
Have fun getting through._

Around them was a mass of confusion. Some students were clutching at each other in fright, while others were joyfully bouncing up, off the walls, and even tumbling in the air. Harry fancied he could imagine some of the more speedy students having come down from the upper levels of the castle, seeing them in his mind's eye having hit the spelled zone and gone zooming off into the air at the next rushed step, no doubt much to their surprise.

Blaise did not wait or comment; he bounced off into the hall looking rather like an astronaut during the videos of the moon landing. 'Well, he really did want to play with this,' Harry thought. Then he spied Colin Creevey busily taking photographs, Hermione not far behind him with a disapproving scowl on her face at the more or less rampant frivolity taking place before her eyes.

He could almost hear her thoughts on the situation. After all, exams were only a couple of weeks away. People would be much better served by spending their time in diligent study, not in having fun. Harry shrugged, mentally more than physically, and took off himself, bounding and tumbling across the room in the general direction of the Great Hall.

As soon as he touched down just inside the doors he stuck in place for several seconds, the spell work removing the bounce from his step and forcing him to be still long enough to regain his equilibrium. He wondered how many students would suffer further surprise when they realized that leaving the Great Hall would have them bouncing around again until they hit one of the original zones.

With that thought pleasantly on his mind he found his usual seat and loaded his plate, pausing only long enough to send a faint smirk at his head of house before indulging his hunger.

«« :: »»

A week later found Harry fidgeting in the entrance hall with Blaise while waiting for a forgetful Ron to fetch a few things from his dorm before they headed off to Hogsmeade. It would be their last legitimate chance to go that year. The final quidditch game of the year was in two weeks, and directly after that exams began.

He wasn't especially worried about his exams, though he would certainly do his best. There was no sense in upsetting any of his professors or giving them reason to suspect anything was amiss. However, his two friends could use the break from the school itself even if there wasn't anything in particular they wished to do while away.

Ron finally arrived, looking a bit harried, with Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Hermione in tow. Harry heaved an internal sigh and gave Ron a supportive smile. "Are we ready? Last chance to really relax before the final push."

So they went, largely ignoring or downplaying Hermione's depressing comments, and swept through the village at a leisurely pace, investigating everything and anything that might be of interest. Discussion at lunch was given over to DA progress and areas in which Ginny and Luna might need any last minute help with before their OWLs.

Dinner, however, back at the school, was marked by the decided absence of several members of the staff. Harry looked at Blaise, who naturally had no more idea what was up than he did, then to the first years who clustered at their end of the table. They didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

_:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry.:_

_:Er, have any of the portraits spoken up today? Dumbledore and all the heads of houses are missing from the staff table.:_

After a slight pause Tom replied, _:I'm not sure what's going on at the moment. I was informed of an altercation earlier—in Fluffy's chamber, actually—but I get the feeling that whatever has happened, the serpent in Dumbledore's office has not felt free to report in. And that's assuming that they're gathered up there and not someplace where we don't have a spy.:_

Harry forced himself not to frown. Fluffy's chamber meant Malfoy, which meant it was exceedingly likely he was involved. Had it something to do with Draco's manipulations of possible Death Eater students? _:An altercation. The serpent there wasn't able to explain better?:_

_:Finish your dinner, Harry. We can talk about this once we're able to have some privacy.:_

He was not pleased with that non-answer, but refrained from protesting. Instead he continued on, eating, asking the first years about their day, and chatting with Blaise, all while trying not to think about Tom's odd silence on the matter. Afterward he led the first years down to his room, joined by Blaise, for a mini-session on Defense to make up for having missed their usual just after lunch.

And when he was finally alone and able to join Tom, his bonded was uncharacteristically cagey about things. "I'm not sure of how much I actually ought to say. As it is, I have to wonder if any sort of announcement will be made at breakfast."

Harry shot Tom a bit of a glare. "Why?"

"Because it might be better if your reaction was genuine should that happen. Then, I mean."

"I can understand that, I think. But, Tom, whatever happened, I was with the others all damn day. If you're worried about suspicion of some sort falling on me, I'm not sure why. And that makes me think something really awful happened. Besides, I usually don't go to breakfast on Sundays and you know that."

Tom heaved a sigh and nodded. "All right. Malfoy and his goons met with several Ravenclaws in Fluffy's chamber. No surprise there. However, a fight broke out over what Draco has been up to, namely blackmail and extortion. The minute the fighting started that Edgecombe girl fled, presumably to fetch a professor. By the time one arrived, Malfoy was . . . dead."

"Dead!?"

Tom gave him a pointed look. "Yes, dead. The Ravenclaw boy managed a fatal shot during the fracas, even with the goon squad there to get in the way. Presumably, the lot of them are all in Dumbledore's office at present being questioned, and I assume that Draco is being hidden in the infirmary somewhere."

Harry didn't know what to say. Sure, he knew at some point that his boyhood rival would end up dead due to his association with Voldemort, but so unexpectedly? What on earth had he been doing to cause such a violent reaction from a fellow student? "Was it an accident?"

Tom shrugged. "It was rather difficult for the serpent to say. From what I gathered, that boy, Thistledown, strenuously objected to the path Malfoy was leading him down. As I said, blackmail and extortion. Apparently the Ravenclaw was using Malfoy as a supplier of certain illicit potions and such, and Malfoy chose to tell him this time around that the price had just been increased, except this time it wasn't for gold. Rather, service to the Dark Lord. Malfoy miscalculated badly. He must have thought he had Thistledown tightly enough under his control to make such a bold move, and it obviously didn't work."

"I'll say," responded Harry. "He also must have thought he had enough on Edgecombe to even bother mentioning it in her presence. Of course, she ran off again to tattle, though in this case I can't say I object."

"At any rate," Tom continued, "Thistledown objected with his wand and somewhere during the fight he managed a killing shot, though I get the impression it was not the killing curse."

Harry flopped sideways on the couch and stretched out. "I really just don't know how to feel about this."

"I admit," Tom said slowly, "that I've told you very little about what Malfoy has been up to, but you gave me the impression that you'd rather not know the details. If I was wrong, I apologize."

He shook his head immediately. "No, I'm not bothered by that. I'm not saying willful denial is a good thing, but there are things I sometimes just don't want to know. Not having asked is as much as saying don't tell me, I suppose."

They sat there in silence for some time before the hissing of a serpent brought them both to full attention. _"I have come to report, masters."_

_"Please do so."_

_"Edgecombe, Crabbe, Goyle, and Thistledown are being held overnight here in the castle in separate rooms. Malfoy's body is in a private room in the infirmary. The Ministry has already been informed of what happened and will be arriving in the morning to take Thistledown into custody pending a trial. The others will be removed later in order to give testimony."_

_"Did it come out exactly how Malfoy died?"_

_"A cutting curse hit him in the neck, masters. He died almost instantly."_

Harry felt the absurd urge to make a joke about Malfoy's vanity at that point, but choked it back. He also left unvoiced the sentiment that Narcissa Malfoy would not be worrying any further over what her son might do to the family fortune.

Several minutes later the serpent had told all it knew and had departed back to its position in Dumbledore's office. It was then that Tom subjected him to a rather piercing look. "A suggestion."

"Yes?"

"In the interests of safety, I recommend you remove your memory of this evening's revelations to a pensieve until such time as you are informed of what happened in the normal course of things. And I do mean remove, not copy. After you find out again and have reacted, I will produce the pensieve so you can be once more fully aware of tonight."

Harry let out something resembling a laugh. "Not unless I write something down telling me that I agreed to this. Otherwise I might try to argue with you about this."

Tom favored him with an understanding smile. "So be it."

A short time later it was done and Harry had an alarming gap in his memory for the evening, but the note he had written to himself allayed his concern for the time being, and Tom further distracted him by seducing him with another massage. And given another suggestion, he stayed in his own room that night with a promise of information later on.

He had already eaten breakfast and was curled up on his couch when his door was rapped on sharply several times, and after setting down his book he hastened to check who was there (presumably Blaise) and open it. Blaise stepped in looking a bit wild and immediately pushed the door shut, then said bluntly, "Malfoy is dead."

That occasioned a fairly long conversation with Blaise telling Harry every bit of gossip he had managed to overhear, and for the first time since the school year had begun, Harry left his rooms on a Sunday and went off with Blaise to track down Ron to see if he knew anything. Granted, Harry knew all he had to do was ask Tom, but decided to wait until later on that day before acting to regain whatever he had lost.

As it turned out, the most recent gossip intimated that Thistledown had never made it to the Ministry, though no one seemed to know why. Ron wondered, though not without a few faintly quizzical looks at Harry, if this constituted their yearly run in with Voldemort, or if it was only the beginning. Eventually Harry declared that enough was enough.

"It's just about lunch, guys, and at the risk of sounding really uncaring, I've already wasted enough time on this. I just want to go back to my room at this point."

"Well, it's not like there's anything we can actually do except talk about it," said Blaise. "And at the risk of sounding equally uncaring, I'm hungry, so lunch it is. I'll see you later." And with that Blaise was off.

Harry dashed off a quick note and thrust it at Ron, then headed out, with Ron catching up to walk with him and breaking off as they hit the bottom of the main stair. By the time Ron joined them after lunch in the library, Harry had already regained his memory of the evening before. After quickly filling his friend in on the additional information, Harry turned to Tom with a somewhat accusatory look and said, "So Thistledown never made it to the Ministry. I wonder what happened."

Tom cleared his throat and glanced off to one side. "It's amazing how similar in build Thistledown is to you, Harry."

"I see. And should we expect to see anything alarming in tomorrow's paper?"

"Possibly. But really, I can't imagine it would be anything all that interesting. More of the usual, I'm sure."

Harry left it at that.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	34. It Begins

* * *

**— 34: It Begins —**

* * *

Harry figured himself for a wretched person were he to neglect having tea with Hagrid at least one more time before he left that year. After all, while Hagrid might believe Harry would turn up again for the next school year like a bad penny, he knew better, and wanted to make sure that the last real memory his gentle friend would have of him was pleasant.

Naturally he dragged Ron and Blaise along. Their exams were over, so Harry saw no reason to even pretend an interest in anything academic, though Hermione was apparently delighted that many of their professors were taking the time to advise them on what to expect for their last year. She, it seemed, was far too busy to accompany them, something that made Harry feel anger all over again at her behavior. She was being incredibly rude in his opinion, not making time for someone who had always been her friend.

There were definitely times when he sincerely wished they had not decided to become her friend. But he also knew had they not, so many bad things would have happened without the help she had freely given. Ginny would most certainly be dead, and her time turner had been exceptionally useful. He simply did not understand how a girl, seemingly so progressive and intelligent, could so quickly cast things aside and become narrow-minded and obtuse.

Hagrid was happy to see them; he always was. He provided tea in abundance, rock cakes none of them dared touch, and Fang was happy to supply a healthy amount of drool in his eagerness to be friendly. Harry reasoned it was safe enough to slip the huge dog rock cakes under the table. Certainly the copious amounts of saliva the dog managed would be a good start in breaking down the otherwise inedible food.

All in all, they had a lovely time, and Hagrid was as usual oblivious to their distaste for his culinary efforts. It was getting very close to dinner when they left and Harry was very hungry, though the amount of tea he had drunk made him feel as though he was sloshing inside. He happily attended dinner given that, glad that it was the leaving feast, and barely paid any attention to Dumbledore's speech. As a result, he had no idea who actually won the house cup that year, and really didn't care.

When he was finally able to retreat to the privacy of his own room he requested immediate transport to the library, then sent Dobby off to discretely fetch Ron and Snape. They had some final planning to do before he and Ron left on the train the next day.

"Dobby, thank you. If you want to stay, that's fine. You will be involved in this, after all. If you'd rather go, I'll just call you back when we need your help a little later on."

Dobby made an odd movement with his head, something between a nod and a shake, then twisted an ear sideways. "Dobby will stay, master."

"Please have a seat, then." Harry turned slightly. "Ron, have you received word yet from the twins?"

"Yeah, and they're fine with it. Mum and dad can't object as I've been seventeen for months now. They won't like it, though."

Harry shrugged carelessly. "No offense, but I don't particularly care how they feel. I know they want you safe, but under different circumstances that could easily translate to you being so in the dark that you'd be helpless. With you living with the twins, Dobby should be able to get word to you without much trouble. You may find yourself dragged back to the Burrow once I go missing, though."

Ron gave a shrug of his own. "I can deal with that for a few weeks. So long as I get word right before this starts, and verification afterward, that'll be fine."

"Actually," Harry said, tapping his chin with one finger, "it might not be so strange if Dobby were seen going to you after the fact. You are my Wheezy, after all."

Ron started snickering as Dobby twisted an ear with one long-fingered hand. Harry looked to Tom to continue.

His bonded nodded and spoke. "Severus, we will need to run one final test of that charm we came up with, but not until after Harry and Ron have departed. I want to be absolutely certain nothing goes wrong." Severus nodded so Tom said, "Harry, you will take care of Hermione on the train, correct?"

"Yes."

"Ron, you will simply need to act puzzled when Harry feels the need to speak with her privately. You can use the excuse of being a prefect to go patrol the train, I suppose. Personally, I think you've been doing an excellent job of appearing to be clueless, so I have no doubt you will also manage this well, not to mention being sullen and uncommunicative, or even destructively angry as the occasion warrants."

"Sure," Ron said with a slight grin, "and thanks. I know this is critical."

"If at all possible, it would be nice to arrange our deaths during an Order meeting. That way everyone can witness Severus's reaction. Dobby, you are able to enter headquarters?"

"Yes, Master Tom. Dobby is master's elf, so Dobby can enter his property regardless of the protections being placed by Dumbledore. Master's will is not being denied."

Tom nodded in understanding. "Very well. Then I would appreciate you being there when the time comes, after you have warned Ron, to help coordinate, and to report back on what you hear after Severus is unconscious. If necessary, though I doubt it will be needful, to also spirit Severus away if danger befalls him."

"Dobby will listen and protect. Professor Snape is being important, and Dobby will not fail you."

Harry reached out impulsively and gave Dobby a hug. Dobby seemed overcome at the display and dropped his head, fat tears welling in his eyes, causing Harry to look away and purse his lips against the odd smile that threatened to erupt. He really was terribly fond of Dobby; the house elf was so uncomplicated and open. A few moments later he cleared his throat and looked back at Tom, to be greeted with a knowing look.

"All right. Then let us go over the plan one last time."

«« :: »»

Later, alone, Harry began the enjoyable process of undressing his beloved. "I feel confident. Do you?" he asked as he slowly unbuttoned Tom's shirt.

"I do. We've gone over every last detail we could think of, no matter how small. If something goes wrong it will not be for lack of planning or effort on our parts, and I hesitate to believe that fate would be so cruel to us at this late date. Not after everything else."

Harry smiled softly and nodded, pushing the shirt back off Tom's shoulders. "I want you to know how lucky I feel, how fortunate." He glanced up briefly. "I will try never to take you for granted, Tom. And I hope that you would smack some sense into me if I did start to."

Tom raised his hands and pulled Harry's face close, subjecting him to a deep, lingering kiss. "I know, and yes, so long as you promise to do the same. Oh, don't mistake me, Harry. There will be times, I'm sure, when we will argue, disagree. It's only natural. We would not be human otherwise, and we can both be exceptionally stubborn people."

"True." Harry dropped his gaze, then looked back up through his lashes coyly. "You can be quite a brat at times."

Tom gave him a look of mock outrage and slapped his ass. "Enough out of you. Finish your task so I can make you forget how to speak, never mind find a way to form such a thought with any coherency." Then he paused, appearing to consider something. "Then again, it is intoxicating when you scream my name, so perhaps that part would be unwise of me."

"Oh, I'm sure," Harry said dryly, then reached down to caress his bonded teasingly.

A hand took his wrist in an iron grip and raised it so that Tom could place a kiss on his fingers. "I'll get you for that, you outrageous whelp."

Harry tried very hard to look frightened, but feared his expression was more likely to betray his amusement. "Oh, please," he said breathlessly. "Have mercy on me."

"No such luck," Tom said crisply, then brandished his wand and removed their clothing the easy way. "I will make you beg."

Harry knew beyond question that if his bonded was feeling cruel he could and would prevent Harry's orgasm for an exceptionally long time, and that only made it sweeter in the end. He trembled in anticipation and let himself be dragged toward the bed, already imagining in his mind what things Tom would do to him so very soon.

The next morning found him wrapped around Tom and aching pleasantly. Tom had, in fact, been feeling cruel, and things had been so intense the night before that he'd blacked out. Harry would need to repay his kindness as soon as he was able. With a very reluctant sigh he dropped a kiss on Tom's lips and prepared to roll out of bed.

"Not just yet," Tom murmured sleepily.

"I must. I have to be at breakfast, you know that."

"I don't want you to go," Tom muttered petulantly.

Harry blinked in surprise and looked at his bonded closely. "You're going to miss me," he accused in a drawl.

Tom's eyes flew open as a scowl etched his face. "Of course I am, you wretched imp! The day this is over and we can finally live together in peace shall not come too soon for me."

Harry's chest tightened and a fatuous smile spread across his face. "You say the nicest things to me. I love you, too."

"Brat."

"Whatever you say, my darling dark lord," Harry replied lightly. "I shall strive to live up to your opinion of me. Would you like it if I began by tipping a bucket of ice water over your head to help you wake up?" he asked, rolling off the bed and gaining his feet and distance quickly.

Tom glared at him and sat up, running a hand roughly through his hair.

"There is time, you know, if you wanted to join me in the shower," Harry said leadingly, stepping backward slowly. "I'm sure I could make you feel much, much better."

«« :: »»

Dobby had kindly packed his belongings—those few things he was taking with him, at least. Anything of any import was stashed in their bedroom in the Chamber complex. Harry did not see the point in hauling it around, and frankly, should anyone end up wondering what happened to the map, or his cloak, or anything else, he didn't particularly care. Let it remain a mystery. They might assume in the end he had taken them with him when lured away from the Dursleys.

The four of them shared a compartment on the train and Blaise had already made him promise to write over the summer. As it turned out, Blaise had been given Malfoy's prefect position, Snape having told him before the term had let out. That would come in handy a bit later on. As it was, Hermione had given them all an exhausting replay of her exams and her thoughts on how well she had done when Harry decided it was time for a little talk.

It lacked about an hour to their arrival at Kings Cross, so Harry casually suggested that Ron and Blaise might do their final inspection of the train. That he could finally sense Tom's presence in his mind was certainly a factor in that decision.

"Why not Hermione?" Ron asked belligerently.

"Don't be silly, Ron. You make it sound like you're not any good at it. Besides, I wanted to ask Hermione about something I read just recently, and I know that'll bore you," he replied reasonably.

Ron shot him a look of mingled suspicion and confusion. "You're not already working up to next term, are you?" he whined.

Harry shrugged. "It's not like I've got anything better to do over the summer."

Ron scowled and stood, tugging on Blaise's arm. "Fine. Let's go," he said, then stomped out, Blaise right behind him with an amused smile on his face. Harry faintly heard Ron saying, "Traitor," before the door shut, and snickered before glancing at Hermione, then casting several privacy charms.

She gave him a cool look. "Ron may be thick, but I'm not. What's going on, Harry? What could you possibly have to ask me about?"

Harry let out a huge sigh and slumped on the seat, allowing his face to betray a mass of uncertainty, confusion, and even a bit of fear.

"Harry?" Her voice was now more curious than hostile. "Harry, what's wrong? I'm listening."

He glanced up, inwardly smirking at the look on her face. "It's just that I'm so confused, Hermione. I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried so hard to keep this all inside. I didn't want to burden anyone, and certainly not put them in danger. I just—I feel like I'm drowning."

She leapt up from her seat and sat back down next to him. "I'm here, Harry."

_:She's obviously learned something from her mistakes, Harry. She's not being pushy for once.:_

_:Interesting, eh?:_ He sighed again and turned a soulful gaze on her. "Please don't tell anyone. You can't let anyone know, Hermione. It could mean your life. I can't even believe I'm willing to put you in danger like this, but I feel like I might go crazy if I can't talk about it. I can trust you, can't I?"

She reached to take one of hands, patting it gently on the back with her other. "Yes, Harry."

"Are you sure? I don't think I could live with myself if anything happened to you," he said, sounding ever so faintly hysterical. "I know we've haven't exactly been close lately, but you're so smart, and so level headed. I don't know who else to turn to."

"Oh, Harry," she said softly. "You spend so much time trying to protect others. I swear to you I won't say a word. Not even to Ron if you don't want. Now let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."

Harry bit his lip to prevent an incredibly inappropriate grin from forming, and nodded slowly, reluctantly even. "Yeah, not Ron. He's been so supportive this year, but he does tend to blurt things out." Another sigh, and then, "Hermione, that night. . . ." He rubbed his forehead roughly with his free hand. "When . . . Sirius died."

"I'm listening, Harry."

"Oh, Merlin. It was so sudden, and then, I nearly died myself. I just had to be such an ass, not thinking, and ran off after Bellatrix. Voldemort came, but then Dumbledore helped me. You know all that. But. . . ."

She nodded and rubbed the back of his hand in what she thought was a soothing gesture. Harry felt a great deal like jerking free of her touch, but resisted.

"Hermione," he whispered, causing her to lean in closely, "Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said that night."

She was so surprised she didn't even think to correct him.

"I think I'm going to die," he whispered in seeming anguish.

"That can't possibly be right, Harry. Why on earth do you think that?"

Harry cleared his throat and sat up straighter, as though trying to disguise his weakness. "It only makes sense. I'll tell you what it said if you want. I know you can keep a secret. I'm just worried that someone will suspect and come after you."

"Harry, I think I understand now why you've been acting so strangely this year. I know you feel you have to protect us all, but you need help too. You can't do this alone. It's just too much for one person to handle. Tell me, and let me help you. Maybe there's a loophole or something I can spot."

Harry privately wondered if she was paying lip service to an idea in those statements. Granted, many people believed it was his responsibility to deal with Voldemort, but how many of them held that belief with any basis in truth? He was more inclined to believe she was one that did not, and was merely trying to get him to confide further in her, especially as she had already let slip that it irked her greatly that she had lost what measure of control she had previously held over him.

He fixed a frighteningly steady gaze on her and repeated the prophecy in a stiff voice, barely above a whisper, then averted his eyes and slumped again, like an enormous burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. In his peripheral vision he could see her renewed surprised, along with an intense concentration as her lips moved soundlessly through the words he had just spoken.

They sat there in a timeless moment, which suddenly shattered as her eyes regained their focus. "This is awful," she said, then flushed a deep red. "I'm sorry, Harry, I don't know what I'm saying. No, it's bad enough you must confront him. You cannot die. It's unthinkable." She paused to nearly growl before saying, "You know how much I despise Divination. It's such a wooly discipline. And it doesn't even say what power!"

"Dumbledore says that power is love," he offered softly.

"Professor Dumbledore," she corrected absently. "Love, yes, perhaps. Maybe." She frowned and bit her lip. "No, Harry, surely not. That foul beast has never lived, only survived. You have, though I admit it has not been the best of lives. You have us. Many people, in fact. Plenty of people care about you, and you them. You can do this, I'm sure of it."

Tom chuckled in his mind. _:She's doing a lovely job of parroting the old man. So sayeth the ultimate authority, so mote it be.:_

She gripped his hand fiercely. "Harry, don't you worry about a thing. I will not let you down. I will figure this out."

_:I love how confident she is,:_ he thought dryly, though to her he displayed a look of faint hope. _:Are you sure I'm not overplaying this?:_

_:Oh, Harry love, she's so caught up right now over the fact that you chose her to confide in that she's very likely oblivious to most else. She's surely feeling very important at the moment.:_

Then he sobered and gave her an intensely serious look. "If anyone can, it's you. I'm so sorry I've dragged you into this so deeply. You shouldn't have to deal with this. It would kill me if anything happened to you or Ron, and now I've told you, and. . . ."

She spent a good five minutes reassuring him, and he let her, allowing himself to be pushed back into the role of somewhat clueless and reluctant hero who didn't have the sense he was born with. Well, other than that he had finally opened up to her, the only logical choice. And then he was saved, spotting Ron and Blaise, and shot her a meaningful look before un-casting the charms he had erected and asking her about a fairly obscure healing potion as they stepped through the door. Predictably, Ron rolled his eyes.

Still, he was feeling a slight twinge of guilt. Having outwardly reconciled with his former friend, he knew it was very likely she would be crushed with guilt when news of his death was brought to light. He watched with apathetic eyes as she produced a huge tome and began reading avidly.

_:Which is better, Harry? Had you not done this, she would have felt herself correct in thinking of you as an immature idiot when that news came, even if she did grieve on some level. As it stands, she may indeed feel a lot worse, but she will also be happy that you came to her, and only her, looking for help. Her last memories of you will be good ones, and that is a gift, despite the difference of burden you've placed on her.:_

_:I know. I just. . . . Why couldn't she have been reasonable from the start? I'm so disappointed in her! I still feel betrayed.:_

Tom's mental voice was gentle when he said, _:I understand. I wish I could make you feel better, but only time and perspective will accomplish that. The most I can do is distract you for a time.:_

Harry nearly smiled. _:And I do so like how you distract me.:_

_:I still wonder if she will contact the old man. I wonder what his reaction would be.:_

He shrugged mentally. _:She may keep her promise, or may think the pest is an exception. I suppose if she does and he objects, I will get either a letter or a visit. For all we know he's been waiting to see what I'll do. He might think this is a good sign.:_

_:Love, love, love. Let us all don flowery, flowing robes all the colours of the rainbow and dance in perfect harmony upon the earth.:_

Harry nearly lost it, having to duck his head abruptly and bite his lip hard against the desire to laugh loudly. _:My dear dark lord, I will have to punish you for that. I can just see the pest prancing about in a woodland glade with wide-eyed deer and cuddly bunny rabbits. Disney, watch out!:_

"Are you all right, mate?"

Harry glanced up to see a look of concern on Ron's face. "I'm fine. Just not looking forward to being back with them."

Blaise looked almost openly curious (he _was_ a Slytherin), but had the good manners not to query him on it. Instead he started a discussion about the incoming students next year, wondering if they too would avail themselves of tutoring, which made Hermione glance up long enough to give them both a look before resuming her reading.

A short time later the train pulled into the station. Harry stoically gathered up his trunk, yanking it down from the overhead rack, and followed his friends out. They were greeted by an enthusiastic Molly Weasley, who bestowed a hug on everyone but Blaise, and then captured Ginny when she wandered over. "All right, children. Let's move along. Harry, we'll wait until we're sure your family arrives."

Harry nodded and turned to Blaise, shaking his hand and promising again to write over the summer. He pulled Hermione off to the side and gave her a hug, whispering in her ear, "Please promise, should anything happen to me, not to tell Ron you knew. And make sure he eats. If he ever loses his appetite, I just know the world will end."

She pulled back slightly and nodded.

"Nothing in letters. It's too dangerous. Tell me whatever you can when we come back, okay?"

"Of course, Harry," she whispered, then pulled away and said normally, "Study hard, Harry, but try to enjoy your summer."

Blaise had left by then so they all trooped out through the barrier. Harry spotted his uncle almost immediately; the man looked almost bored, but that could only be attributed to Tom's control. He gave Ginny and Mrs Weasley a hug, slapped Ron on the back, then dragged his trunk off as though heading to his doom.

The ride back was deathly silent.

Harry arrived in his room with a quiet sigh. Same old depressing surroundings, same old broken and rejected things. He had nothing this time to store under the floorboard. Hedwig would arrive later, having preferred to fly back rather than sit in her confining cage and be jostled so much during the trip. After opening the window Harry flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Just a few weeks."

_:Yes.:_

_:I've been wondering. How will the pest react to the realization that I managed to get to Gringotts sometime after I became legal? If I'm not mistaken, as my supposed guardian, what money I have would go to him.:_

_:Very simple, Harry, and I'm surprised you've not asked before this now I think about it. You've been in the Department of Mysteries. Who is to say you didn't walk away with a souvenir?:_

_:Eh?:_

_:I have every intention of letting a time turner roll under your bed before we leave.:_

_:I thought we destroyed those.:_

_:Maybe you did. But can you be sure? Some of them could have been crushed to powder, throwing off the count. Another might have accidentally fallen into a pocket. Since I expect you to be an obliging fellow and take the occasional walk about town, they will surely be tailing you, which means you could have slipped out with the help of a time turner and snuck off to Gringotts shortly before your untimely demise.:_

Harry grinned and nodded. _:All right. And I suppose in my unseemly haste to pack and get the hell out of here, I didn't notice it went missing.:_

_:Precisely. Now, I think we may as well have a portkey for each week you're there. If Dobby agrees he can keep watch on your bedroom while you're with me. If someone from the Order attempts to approach you he can fetch you immediately.:_

_:I don't think he'd mind, though it would be really boring for him. By the way, have you taken care of asking Crest to move?:_

_:Yes, I have. She is already installed in the Chamber complex and seems quite happy, not to mention grateful that I did not bar her continued interest in Dobby. I have no doubt at some point we will be knee high in tiny little house elves.:_

_:So long as I don't have to change any nappies,:_ Harry quipped.

«« :: »»

He soon had a routine set up. He took a long, ambling walk each Tuesday and Friday, and was also seen out on other days working in the garden, front or back. Harry even did the weekly shopping. He never showed his face, though, from Friday evening until Sunday morning. He knew beyond question he was being followed whenever he left the house. The rituals made sure he did, despite the fact that someone had finally had the sense to not only pull Dung off rotation, but also ensure that operatives were properly silent.

Having already established the distance Dobby could jump someone, Tom was ensconced in a fairly pricey hotel room well within range, so it was no trouble at all for Harry to spend those missing hours with his bonded in opulent comfort. Tom even began teaching him how to make use of a computer, not to mention introduce him to the wonders of the myriad films that could be watched on television.

For once of a summer, Harry's life could actually be called normal. Mostly. Presumably most people did not have guardians who either ignored them completely or abused them willfully. But that was neither here nor there, and Harry was so very close to being able to leave forever. His birthday was soon, very soon.

In fact, he was waiting patiently on the night of the thirtieth when a thought occurred to him. _:Tom?:_

_:Yes, Harry.:_

_:This may sound silly, but is there such a thing as a . . . magical maturation?:_

He felt a slight measure of surprise flow across their link. _:What, you mean like on a specific date you suddenly gain more power or abilities?:_

_:Yes. Like how puberty floods you with hormones and causes all sorts of changes.:_

_:No, not really, Harry. We simply mature until we stop, magically speaking. For some it takes longer, I admit, but it's not like some mystical experience wherein you wake up one morning practically a new person. At some point you will reach the peak of your power, a ceiling on how much you can work with. Once you hit a certain age that will begin to decline, but so does the human body, so that should hardly be a surprise.:_

_:Hm. All right. That's fine, since it means I won't be experiencing anything odd, or feeling any pain. There always seems to be pain involved in the fairy tales I overhear. I suspect there are too many closet romantics out there hoping for a miracle. And of course, the more pain, the better the results.:_

Tom chuckled in his head. _:Quite so. As they say, beauty is pain, so why not that?:_

Harry glanced at the clock, then the window. _:You know, I think I want this moment now almost as badly as I would have before. It still represents freedom, but not quite for the same reason. I'm glad you're here with me, even if only in my head.:_

_:If you'd had the decency to have your birthday fall on the right day, Harry, we could have celebrated it in a spectacular fashion.:_

Harry chortled and shook his head. _:Right. Like we won't anyway. And speaking of which, exactly when is Haze's birthday, hm?:_

_:That's a surprise,:_ Tom sent primly.

_:Wicked, evil man.:_

_:That I am, Harry. And you admire me for it! Don't try to lie, now, I know you do.:_

Harry snorted and refused to respond. A second later he spotted owls winging toward the window and sat up, ready to unload whatever they had brought him. Hedwig arrived first and claimed his lap, then Pig, and several other owls he did not recognize. An intense gaze showed nothing to be wary of, so Harry unloaded each of them and tossed them treats, leaving his own for last so he could lavish her with affection before she flew over to her cage. The others were allowed to have a few sips of water from her supply before flying off into the night.

He settled back and began to explore his birthday offerings. Neville sent a short note along with a rather interesting little book that discussed how Herbology could be used in conjunction with Defense to great effect. Luna's book was pure fancy, on mythical creatures she surely believed were real. A closer look revealed that her father had most likely published it. Blaise also sent a book on Defense, though this one focused on the theory behind the Dark Arts.

Ginny sent something far more down-to-earth: a simple but stylish black leather belt. Her note threatened to pound some fashion sense into his head if he didn't shape up now he was an adult. Ron sent along the usual round of sweets (and a few things from the shop), and that was bundled with mince pies and other foods from his mum. Hermione's gift made him snort; a NEWT revision guide was just what he needed. Still, he appreciated the thought to some degree.

Hagrid's contribution was rock cakes, which made Harry groan. He would have to quietly dispose of them again. The gift from Remus nearly brought tears to his eyes. While it was true that Hagrid had once solicited photographs from many people who had known his parents, Remus had gone above and beyond the call. The album Harry flipped through was filled with so many pages of his mother and father, and even Sirius and Remus himself, and not one of them contained Peter.

What really shocked Harry was that Snape had also sent a gift. When freed from its covering of simple brown paper it was revealed to be his personal copy of the text used as a student for advanced Potions, complete with handwritten notes on nearly every page. Even looking at only a few of them made Harry realize that he was seeing the mind of a genius at work, and it would make Potions so much easier to comprehend.

_:I think you've really gotten under Severus's skin, Harry. That's an exceptional gift coming from him.:_

_:I know we may never be completely comfortable with each other, but this really is amazing. I'm not sure how I'll thank him.:_

_:Just keep it simple, Harry. He would probably sneer on reflex if you were effusive. Either way, I think this is a peace offering of sorts, or at least a way of saying he accepts you for who you are.:_

_:Well, he was very amused by those pranks. Though, I think a thank you note will have to be delivered via Dobby. Safer that way.:_

_:I agree. And now, you should probably get some sleep. We've only a week left.:_

Harry nodded and got up to put everything away, then turned off lamp and slipped into bed. _:I'll write the notes in the morning.:_

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	35. Let's Dance

* * *

**— 35: Let's Dance —**

* * *

Harry and Tom did, actually, make use of the time turner Tom had mentioned, simply on the off chance someone nosy (Dumbledore, perhaps?) decided to try to find out just exactly when Harry had managed to get to Gringotts to investigate his finances. Harry had already been on his walk that day so he knew there would be no problem for him to turn back time for several hours and slip off either with Dobby's help or a portkey. And indeed, he returned to the house on Privet Drive with no one seemingly the wiser for his visit to the bank.

They repeated the process on Tuesday. Greltack seemed rather amused to see them and they spent most of both visits simply talking, though Harry did finally mention the name he would be using, just so the goblin would know beforehand. Greltack's only question of any substance was in regard to Harry's eventual appearance, which threw him for a slight loop.

"You know, I never did decide on that," he admitted. "I'm not so sure I should use what I am now." He gave Tom an uncertain look. "Ash, what do you think?"

Tom hid his surprise well at the use of his assumed name. "People may see the resemblance, vague as it is, but most people don't seem to be very perceptive, I'm afraid. However, you might consider changing your eyes to blue, not grey. It would be one step further away."

"You are referring to Sirius Black?" asked Greltack.

Harry nodded. "I really couldn't think of anything else at the time, and I don't think he would have minded."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Tom said supportively. "And on that note, we should probably get going. Greltack, you've been most kind to let us sit with you again."

Greltack inclined his head. "It is no trouble, and I assure you that should Dumbledore make inquiries he will learn nothing more than the law demands, and less than that if I can manage it."

"Brilliant. Thank you," Harry said with a smile. "Until next time."

And so Harry returned from the bank for the second time in less than a week, completely unobstructed. He shook his head over that. It was so appallingly easy to fool the Order. And he knew they were only doing what they thought was best, or wanted to believe that, but it did not change the fact that they were, overall, woefully inadequate. Whether that was their fault or Dumbledore's really didn't matter in the long run. Not anymore, anyway.

Harry was nearly vibrating with anticipation by the time late evening arrived that Saturday. A note had already gone with Dobby in order to inform Ron that Harry would be removed that night, but even then it was couched in very vague terms. He was in the middle of dashing off a note to explain his abrupt absence when he sensed Tom drawing close, and glanced over to see what appeared to be the Weasley twins climbing in through his window. After a quick nod he finished it up and left it on the desk, then waited.

No one said a word for several minutes, then one of the twins suddenly spoke in a loud, harsh whisper. "Harry! You need to come with us, mate."

"What in Merlin's name are you two doing here? You're going to wake up my uncle if you aren't careful."

"Damn it, Harry, Ron's in St. Mungo's. The Order has no intention of telling you either. Bloody hell, you're of age now. They can't stop you from coming!"

Harry shot out of his chair, making sure it scraped back across the floor for effect. "What!?" he practically shrieked, then lowered his voice immediately. "What's happened? Why is he at hospital? Why would they keep this from me?"

A slight noise at the door was studiously ignored. "Because, Harry," one of them drawled, "it's not safe. You might get hurt. You might put Ron in danger."

"What happened?" he demanded in a deadly tone.

One sighed loudly and said, "That blasted brain attack finally caught up with him. He's completely delusional, keeps wailing about your death like it's in the past. Nobody can get through to him. We thought maybe you could. If you're actually right there with him, he might be able to pull out of whatever fantasy world he's stuck in. Now will you please get your things?"

And like a good, reckless hero, Harry starting tossing things around the room as though trying to figure out what to take. A twin made as though to open his wardrobe, only to stop when Harry said, "Forget the damn clothes. I'd only end up burning them later."

He dived under the bed and yanked a few things out, crawling on his knees to his trunk to open it and chuck them in. "Grab those books off the desk. I don't plan on coming back here." He had no doubt it would be Tom answering that request, if only to put in place the letter he had prepared in advance to mock Dumbledore.

Within two minutes Harry was back on his feet and glancing around the room as though checking for anything he had missed. He skipped over to the desk quickly and made out as if he was writing a note, then pointed and said, "Right, grab that, will you? I'll just get my broom and we'll get the hell out of here." He ducked back down and slid part way under the bed, jostling it for effect, and not incidentally placing the time turner near one of the legs, then scrambled back out with his broom in hand.

"Let's go. If Ron needs me, I'll damn well go no matter what the Order has to say about it. Hedwig will find me like always." He switched off the light, and they were off out the window. In point of fact, they only flew a short distance before they landed, though it was well outside any wards Dumbledore may have placed in the area. After an exchange of glances, a portkey was produced, and they very quickly disappeared.

Harry flopped onto the first seat he saw and exhaled, then looked at the other two men. One of them shifted to Tom, while the other waved his wand and became Snape. "Well?"

"I think that went well," Tom said. "Your darling cousin was right where he should be, due to an unexplained urge to listen at the keyhole, and will tell his parents in the morning that you've dashed off. They will receive the news with a certain amount of enthusiasm, probably have dinner out to celebrate, and hope that they never again see one of our kind."

Harry arched a brow. "Then they will be disappointed when some of them come to question them on my disappearance. If nothing else, Dudders can honestly report on what he overheard, and saw if he was peeking. He'll probably be overjoyed to get his spare room back, too."

Tom furrowed his brow. "I should probably make sure they do not disturb the room for several days. I would become annoyed if our evidence was binned by an idiot because I didn't think far enough ahead."

Severus snorted softly, then said something truly remarkable. "With you two checking the angles, I sincerely doubt you'd miss much."

Tom turned his head lazily and smiled. "Don't sell yourself short, Severus. You are, after all, a brilliant man, and have pointed out some severe oversights already."

"You're far too kind," Severus retorted in a sweetly sarcastic tone. "I shall treasure this moment forever."

Harry laughed; he just couldn't help it.

«« :: »»

Another note found its way to Ron to let him know Harry was safely with Tom, and Severus or Remus would inform them the moment the Order was aware of him being missing. And, of course, their reaction. Harry could almost have set his clock by it. Severus was called to a meeting of the Order before noon on Friday. They had taken almost an entire week to take alarm over him not stepping foot outside the house once in that time. He was starting to have unkind thoughts again. They would have to wait until after the meeting to know for sure.

As it was, Severus was popped into the Chamber library at around dinner time. After greeting them he said, "I was not about to stick around for a cozy meal with a legion of idiots. In any case, I would appreciate the use of a pensieve."

Shortly thereafter all three were enjoying the dubious delights of the memory of an Order meeting.

_"We are here to discuss the disappearance of Harry Potter," Albus said gravely. "It is true  
that his guards had noticed a departure from his usual activities thus far this summer, but we  
all thought there was something he needed to work out on his own."_

_The old man did not appear to notice the muttering and uncomplimentary expressions that  
suddenly erupted. "Remus was sent in to ascertain the situation, being one of the people most  
close to Harry," he continued, then looked toward the werewolf. "If you would?"_

_Remus nodded, then appeared to collect his thoughts, looking as though he was barely  
restraining himself from doing something horribly foolish and destructive. "As most of you  
know Harry has been seen out and about this summer on a fairly regular basis. There was  
cause for concern when that stopped, but with no evidence that anything untoward was  
occurring, it was not investigated immediately. We all know he was extremely antisocial last  
year, so perhaps he was backsliding into that behavior again._

_"However, it was my duty shift this morning. Owing to my much more sensitive hearing I was  
able to overhear something that seriously alarmed me and immediately contacted Albus to  
consult on what should be done. Once I had permission I entered the house to question the  
Dursleys."_

_"And?" Molly demanded, half rising from her seat. A stern look from Dumbledore silenced  
her._

_"Harry was lured away. The cousin heard something late that night on the ninth so he went to  
investigate, listened at the door and watched through the keyhole. He was able to tell me that  
two identical young men with red hair were in there with Harry, and—"_

_"There is no way my boys would have done this!" Molly shrieked, standing up quickly and  
attempting to loom over the table, a rather difficult thing to do by such a fairly short person._

_"I didn't say it was them," Remus replied with exaggerated patience. "Please don't jump to  
conclusions. I'm sure if they were questioned it would become clear they had nothing to do  
with this. May I continue?"_

_"Please do," Albus said quickly._

_Remus massaged his forehead and said, "Those two men spun a tale for Harry about Ron  
being in St. Mungo's. They said that attack on his mind during the Department of Mysteries  
fiasco had finally caused him to become delusional, that he was claiming Harry was dead and  
wouldn't listen to reason or believe otherwise. They also told Harry that the Order had no  
intention of letting him know, and that they believed Harry's presence could pull Ron back to   
reality._

_"Naturally, as soon as Harry heard that Ron needed him he threw all caution to the wind and  
tossed some things into his trunk, then flew off with them. We have no idea where he is or   
what's happened to him. However"—he held up a firm hand to stop Molly from erupting  
again—"I did find a few peculiar things when I checked his bedroom."_

_He ran rough hands through his hair and took a deep breath before reaching into his pockets.  
Remus placed a time turner on the table, which elicited several sounds of surprise, then  
produced a piece of parchment. "No, I have no idea where he could have gotten such a  
thing, or what he'd have used it for," he said, then turned to Albus. "I don't think you're going  
to like this." He indicated the parchment in his hand before passing it up the table._

_Albus took a fair amount of time reading it. People at the table were moving restlessly in their  
seats, and Molly looked to be ready to bolt, probably of a mind to check to see that three of  
her sons were actually safe and healthy. Eventually he looked up with no trace of a sparkle in  
his eyes and swept his gaze over the assemblage._

_"This is definitely the handiwork of Voldemort. While I cannot be certain he himself was one  
of the two men, it is likely given the contents of this letter."_

_"But wouldn't Harry have sensed his presence?" Minerva asked._

_Albus shook his head slowly. "Not necessarily. If you recall, Severus was able to pass on  
that Voldemort began occluding his mind so that Harry could not inadvertently pick anything  
up from him. As I assume he has iron-clad control over that, it is possible he could stand  
right next to Harry and the boy would never realize it, especially if Voldemort was exercising   
similar control over his emotions. Harry also managed to come into his own with  
Occlumency."_

_"The blood wards?" asked Hestia._

_Albus looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head again. "It is not something I had  
considered in that light. Remember, please, that Voldemort did use Harry's blood during his   
resurrection ritual. I must allow at this moment that there exists the barest possibility that if he  
had entered the wards without the intent to harm Harry, they would not have reacted."_

_"Not harm!?"_

_Albus cast a patient look at Arthur. "Yes. His intent would have been the safe and quiet  
removal of Harry. In fact, thinking about it further, I would be surprised if it was not him   
personally. I sincerely doubt that his Death Eaters could have accomplished this mission  
without him being present. The temptation to subdue Harry by more forceful methods would  
have very attractive."_

_"That's a hell of a thing to hinge a theory on, Albus, and you know it," said Moody._

_Albus gave the faintest of shrugs and nodded. "If you wish to see it that way. Have you a  
better explanation?"_

_Moody scowled and sat back, clearly unhappy._

_"Albus," Remus said in a strained voice, "where do we go from here? Harry could already be  
dead for all we know."_

_Molly choked back a sob at such blunt speech and leapt to her feet, dashing from the room  
a moment later. Albus watched her leave with a faint frown, then turned back to the  
remaining members. "We search for him, of course. Severus, you've not heard anything of  
note?"_

_Severus shook his head. "No, Albus. I would have told you. Whatever is going on, the Dark  
Lord has been keeping these plans very close to his chest. I would speculate, if it was him,   
that his companion was controlled via Imperius and obliviated afterward." His tone was a  
mixture of irritation and admiration, something that occasioned more than one dark look in  
his direction._

The meeting broke up not long after that, and people had been assigned areas to sweep in the hope of finding some sign of Harry.

Harry looked over at Tom and said, "I think I'm in shock."

"Why is that, Harry?"

"I almost can't believe they fell for this. Do you really think we're all right at this point?" Harry asked, casting him a look that clearly asked for reassurance and comfort.

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"I would not trouble yourself," Severus added. "All we need do at this point is move the remaining pieces into place, then stage the final conflict." When it appeared that Harry was still uncertain he added, "I have been in close contact with Dumbledore for many years. While I will not presume to claim that I cannot be fooled, what I have seen does in no way alarm me or cause me any degree of suspicion."

Tom could feel that Harry's unease settled slightly, but not entirely. Uncaring of the fact that Severus was with them he reached out one hand and pulled his bonded to him, guiding him down onto his lap. "It will be all right, Harry. Very shortly this will be over, and that man will never be able to interfere with your life again."

"I'm sorry. It's just so . . . convenient."

"That, my dear Harry, is why we are Slytherins," Tom said with a smirk. "We like to see beneath the surface whenever possible. Others are not so curious or cautious. And if it makes you feel any better, I too will not be fully at ease until this is done with." He paused to run a hand through his bonded's hair before saying, "If you don't object, you might benefit from a nap. Severus and I can continue to talk, and I'll tell you whatever you wish once you've rested a bit."

Harry nodded a bit reluctantly, but allowed himself to be guided off to the bedroom and tucked in after taking a sip of a potion to help soothe him. Tom returned to the library and sat back in his chair after getting a new glass of port.

"He is not usually so anxious," observed Severus quietly.

"True." He took a sip, deciding to be fairly open with his friend. "I think he's scared."

Severus arched a curious brow at him, not bothering to speak.

Tom shrugged. "Assume for a moment this did not work out as planned. Harry could see the entire wizarding world turn against him. Dumbledore might switch tactics to preserve his present position and cast him into the mud to be vilified and feared. I don't think it's unreasonable to be worried that it is, in fact, too convenient. He forgets how much other people tend to bury their heads in the sand. We have over time presented a very believable scenario for people to swallow and digest. Right now, he is so close to freedom that he's starting to choke up on the idea that it might be denied him, however unlikely."

Severus nodded and changed the subject. "The Inferi?"

"They are already in place. Really, all we must do now is decide on the exact day and time to proceed. I would prefer it to happen during an Order meeting, though I know it might not be possible. Still, that does depend on how you feel about it as well. If you'd rather not be put in that position of vulnerability in front of so many, we won't bother with that detail."

Severus did not speak for several minutes. Tom assumed he was mulling the choice over in his mind. "To be perfectly honest, I lean toward not. I am not personally concerned at this time, but perhaps the brat's comments should not be taken too lightly. He has spoken of convenience. What are the odds that it happening at exactly such a moment would raise suspicion in Albus's mind?"

"That is a good point," Tom said, swirling his glass around. "Maybe it is too convenient." There was silence again for a time, then he said, "Tell me something, if you will. Assume that none of this had ever happened, and that Harry did manage to defeat Voldemort and your Dark Mark disappeared as a result. How would you have reacted?"

Severus gave him an intense look, then considered. "Outwardly tense, suspicious. Inwardly? I'm almost ashamed to admit I would likely be near to weeping with relief. I would have gone straight to Albus to show him."

Tom nodded and had another sip. "Then we will not. You will know, of course, but you can simply rush off to see Albus once you recover. Well, that won't be necessary. If you were at your home, I doubt anyone could get to you in such a state, so it should be safe to not bother with that aspect. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

"Shall we discuss the control conditioning, then? I would like to hear your renewed thoughts on that. It's not something I would normally talk about around Harry, since there are things he just doesn't want to know."

"I do not see any problems. They both seem to be firmly entrenched in their current identities thanks to those potions, not to mention your mental control. It should only take a bit of nudging in my opinion to start them off in that fight. The transfigurations are also set and cannot be cancelled, so that is not an issue. I do wonder at how well you're holding up, however. Five people at once must not be easy for you."

"I am weary, but I can hold on for a little while longer. The fact that those two sleep a great deal of the time helps immensely. I suppose the next thing to consider is what happens once those released wake up to find the bodies. I can certainly collapse the wards on the property."

"I'm not sure." Severus rose long enough to refill his glass. "Some of them might seek to be helpful, no doubt to help themselves as well, and take the remains to the Ministry, or at least call them in. You don't plan to have every Death Eater present so it will cause some alarm all its own when some of them drop dead unexpectedly."

He chuckled in amusement over that image. It was a damn shame Lucius couldn't keel over in front of someone he was schmoozing at the Ministry when the time came. "I suppose I could make a few suggestions," he said. "We will be there, after all. I could completely lose my head and start screeching out ideas. Surely one of them will get the bright idea to comply."

Severus gave him a sharp look, then smirked. "Indeed. If nothing else, while they are unconscious, you can do a bit of tidying up. And there is nothing to say you cannot have several Death Eaters at the Ministry that day on errands, even if they make little sense."

"All right. How long do you think we should wait to move now that Dumbledore is aware of his stupidity?"

"Term will begin in just over two weeks. We ought to move quickly. While much amusement could be garnered by stretching things out and making the Order sweat over their inability to gain any ground, I don't think that would be wise. Granted, the Dark Lord has a reputation from the past of toying with the boy, but he has already done so for a week now. Surely he would wish him dead quickly at this point to lessen any chance of interference."

"Assuming that our duplicate looks suitably roughed up. . . . " He looked over at Severus and smiled. "Are you doing anything on Tuesday, my good man?" he asked cheerfully.

«« :: »»

Harry took a few deep breaths. Ron had already been informed of their plans, once again couched in very vague terms, but in such a way that he knew would be understood. They had, after all, spent some time devising code phrases before they left the school, just for that purpose. Hedwig, of course, had totally disappeared from public view, and had already been subjected to her new look.

Harry's first view of Voldemort's stand-in had startled him rather a lot. It was shocking, and almost frightening, to have Tom so close by and yet also see a precise duplicate of the man he had battled so many times in the past. That same unhealthy pallor, those same snake-like nostrils, and those same slit-pupiled red eyes. It made him want to shudder and whip out his wand. He quite nearly laughed and blushed at the same time when he realized he had positioned himself in front of Tom protectively.

His duplicate was equally shocking, but for a different reason. That man looked as though he had been underfed and beaten several times, or at least subjected to a number of rounds of Crucio. Even in sleep he looked tired and haunted. Were either of them awake Harry had no doubt given what Tom had imparted that they would act as though they were who they appeared to be. And soon, he would see.

He himself looked like Haze, not Harry. Likewise, Tom appeared as Ash. They were both covered in enveloping black robes, enough to blend in without dressing as actual Death Eaters. It was a simple precaution, despite the fact they they would be watching events from outside the audience chamber, on what would be considered a mezzanine level if were open. Tom would have no trouble controlling them at that distance, especially now that he had released the Dursleys. He could fix all his attention on the play they were about to set into motion.

Harry turned around and wrapped Tom in a hug, once again seeking reassurance he would never ask for directly.

"Are you ready?" Tom asked.

Harry nodded, letting his cheek nuzzle his bonded's chest, then released him and stepped back.

"All right. Head to the observation room, then. I would say have Dobby bring Ron, but we already know he's being very closely watched. Stay invisible until you enter and bring up the wards immediately. I will join you in just a few minutes."

"Snape is already there?"

"Yes. He will be waiting."

"Okay." Harry pulled Tom's head down for a kiss, then turned and vanished, quickly making his way through the maze of corridors until he reached the observation room and stepped inside. A scan of the area revealed nothing and no one but Snape so he pulled the door shut firmly and activated the wards Tom had arranged for. Only then did he shimmer into view.

"Sir," he said by way of greeting. "Tom said he'd be here in just a couple of minutes."

Severus nodded and moved to stand by the window that overlooked Voldemort's throne. Harry joined him a few moments later, nervously looking back over his shoulder every thirty seconds or so.

"Please desist," Snape said quietly. "Doing that will not make him appear any more quickly."

Harry looked at him in mild astonishment. "Sorry, sir."

"Severus."

Harry did a double take. "I'm sorry?"

"I am no longer your professor. My name is Severus. You may use it."

"I—yes, all right. Thank you. Do you have a calming potion handy?" Harry was not about to do anything Tom thought would make the man uncomfortable.

"Yes." Severus slipped a hand inside his robes without looking and pulled out a vial to hand over. "One small sip. Keep it if you wish."

Harry took it gently, careful not to touch the man, then said, "Thank you. If you like, I don't mind if you call me Haze. I need to get used to it as it is." He opened the vial and took a small sip, then sealed it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"Very well."

The door opened, causing Harry to whip around. Tom stepped in and shut it behind him, then joined them, placing a calming hand on Harry's hip. "It begins," he said simply.

«« :: »»

Voldemort strode into the room like he owned the world, or would shortly, his robes swirling about behind him dramatically as he made his way to his throne. He sat down with a flourish worthy of a king and let his horrid gaze sweep over the room slowly. Those minions already present shrank back slightly, unaware of what was about to take place.

Doors banged open at the back in a shock of sound, and three people stepped through even as more minions apparated into the room, quickly kissing the robes of their master before slipping to their places along the perimeter. Voldemort looked up and smiled coldly.

Two Death Eaters were dragging a struggling Harry Potter between them, forcing him toward the throne. Potter looked to be running on sheer adrenaline, and clearly wasn't physically powerful enough to fend off his escorts, though one might well imagine he could sprint back out through the doors if given half a chance.

Naturally, Voldemort waved his wand in a negligent gesture and closed them. "How delightful to see you again, Potter. I'm so pleased you could join us."

Potter glared at him and struggled against his captors ineffectually. "Yes, of course. It's always a lot more fun when you've got someone at a disadvantage. So incredibly kind of you to make sure I don't have my wand, you snake-faced bastard."

"My, my. We seem to be a bit irritated, Potter. You really should work on your manners. You never know when their lack could cause you to suffer grievous harm."

Potter stilled and arched one of his brows. "Manners? Would you like to apologize for possessing me, then? Surely that isn't the sort of thing found acceptable in polite company. Go ahead, I'm sure you can think of something suitable to say."

Voldemort tilted his head to one side and unleashed another cold smile. "I do like that about you, boy. Such a temper. It would be a shame to kill you if you'd already given up hope. I'm afraid half the fun would be gone, not that it would stop me, of course. So, Potter, does that mean you'd be willing to indulge in some sport? We could duel. That is, if you're brave enough."

Potter affected a look of surprise. "A duel? You mean you aren't going to ask me to join you again? No fibs about giving me back my parents? I think I'm disappointed."

"Futile, I'm sure," Voldemort responded. "I am not about to let a viper like you slither into my company waiting for a moment to strike at me from behind, child. One of us is going to die today, Potter. Trust me when I say it will be you. The only choice you have is to stand there and take it, or duel me and die with honor."

Potter merely snorted.

"I could up the ante, my young friend. I'm sure it would help you to decide if I brought in a few friends of yours I have waiting. Maybe seeing them drop before your eyes might spark some interest on your part. Perhaps a spot of torture?"

"You underestimate my intelligence," Potter replied. "You would kill them regardless."

"Oh, undoubtedly. Though I do admit I would be interested to see just how much you struggled as you watched me break their minds, or bled them dry before they died. I suppose I could even let a few of my more eager Death Eaters have their way with them prior to that."

Potter snarled and began struggling again.

"You can't be sure in any case. After all, you were stupid enough to fall for my plan to get you here. All it took was a plea for help on behalf of your dear blood traitor friend, and off you went, straight into my clutches. Now be a good lad and agree to duel me so we can get this over with, you can die, and I can move on to more interesting things. I begin to grow weary of this ridiculous conversation and may actually grow vexed if this drags on."

"Haven't you forgotten something?" Potter asked suddenly.

Voldemort made a show of thinking, then rested the full force of his gaze back on Potter. "Let me see. You're presently helpless, I have your wand, the old man has no idea where you are. . . ." He paused. "You think I don't divine your meaning, brat? If you wish to believe that us having brother wands will save you a second time, do feel free. It is always sweet to witness hope's demise. Now, will you agree to duel, or shall I simply kill you now and be done with it? This is the last time I will offer."

Eventually, after quite a bit of visible internal struggle, Potter capitulated. Those watching undoubtedly thought the young man was insane to think for even a moment that he could win. Then again, some of them undoubtedly thought their master was insane for giving Potter the chance to fight back magically. Voldemort slid a wand from within his robes and waved it around for a few moments, then made a great show of inspecting it and casting a few minor spells.

"Well, it seems to be working just fine, wouldn't you say, Potter?" He turned his attention to the two minions and said commandingly, "Release him and take your places."

They obeyed immediately, bowing quickly before scurrying off to join the others. Potter pulled himself up straight and ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes never leaving his nemesis. One hand rose to clasp the pendant dangling from his neck, as though taking strength from it. He didn't budge an inch when Voldemort rose and stepped down from the dais.

Voldemort looked him up and down, unleashed another cold smile, then held out Potter's wand. "I do hope you remember how to duel, Potter. I should hate to force you like last time to proper behavior. Really."

Potter attempted to produce a sneer and nodded jerkily, reaching out to snatch the wand away and finger it meaningfully. "Shall we?" he said with admirable bravado.

"By all means."

They moved to the center of the room, paced off, turned and bowed, and then it began. What followed was a duel characterized by coincidence after coincidence, most all of the luck favoring Potter. Anyone watching him would have known he was an excellent flyer given the way he moved and how his reflexes saved him time and time again from being hit.

Potter did not waste his time on higher level spells. He stuck to what he knew best, trying to incapacitate Voldemort for even a split second so he could cast something deadly, yet legal. Voldemort, for his part, was very careful to not allow Priori Incantatem to interfere. He also cast to incapacitate, presumably with a mind to kill once his victim was helpless and knew it. That is not to say he refrained from using dark magic; indeed he did, but none of it was designed to kill. Maiming, however, was certainly an option.

And then, seeing that his foe was weakening, tiring, Voldemort made a fatal mistake.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


	36. Omega

* * *

**— 36: Omega —**

* * *

Voldemort cast, a feral grin on his changed face, presumably unable to contain his curiosity any longer, and knowing his foe could not hope to stand against his might. Potter reacted quickly, turning back the attempt without blinking an eye. 

Voldemort went stock still, giving Potter a brief moment to rest. Suddenly the Dark Lord spoke in an oddly detached voice. "How does it feel?"

A smile spread across Potter's face, one laced with an unholy glee. "Hurts, doesn't it. Love. It's what you do not have, Voldemort. And yet, I have countless others to support me and their love makes me strong. You just couldn't resist knowing the contents of the prophecy, assuming I knew it. Well, let me take advantage of that before you shake this off, hm?"

Potter shot a bludgeoning curse at Voldemort, aiming for his wand hand. A second later both the Dark Lord's wand and hand exploded, quickly followed by a shower of blood as a cutting curse ripped open the man's carotid artery. Potter didn't have much time to appreciate his handiwork, though. Even as Voldemort started to topple unceremoniously to the floor Potter staggered, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Within seconds, not one person in the room remained conscious.

«« :: »»

"Well, that was fun," Harry commented evenly.

"Wasn't it?" Tom smiled and gave a slight nod. "Once again, I bow to your genius, Haze. Now let's go tie up any loose ends down there before they start waking up." He started to walk away, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Are you absolutely certain you wouldn't like to rule the world with me?"

Harry scowled and shook his head. "No. Nein. Nyet. Does that answer your question?"

Tom sniffed dramatically and continued his walk toward the door, pulling it open a moment later. Harry chuckled softly and followed, aware that Severus was right behind him. Together they wended through the corridors and entered the audience chamber, glancing around before converging on the remains of Voldemort and Potter.

Voldemort's wand was splintered beyond repair, so Tom stepped over to the other body to see how that wand had fared. After a moment of thought he whipped out his wand and levitated the body. "Haze, make sure that wand remains in his hand while I do this."

Harry nodded and released his own, casting a quick spell, and then watched curiously.

Tom made a sharp movement and the body dropped down again, this time with the wand arm directly underneath. A loud crack was heard a moment later. "That takes care of that."

It was . . . distinctly odd to see himself lying there dead. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked around again. He really did not want to think too deeply about it. They were all still out cold—those that were alive, anyway.

"Right. Let's check them over. Quickly now," Tom said briskly, then headed off at a fast clip toward a cluster of Death Eaters.

They made short work of checking every last body there. Those dead were ignored in favor of making sure the ones left alive no longer had a Dark Mark. Once they were certain everyone had been looked over they slipped back to the observation room. Tom then collapsed the wards that surrounded the property, making it possible for literally anyone to find it, wizard and muggle alike.

At a nod from his bonded Harry called Dobby to the room and crouched down next to him. "It's time, Dobby. Go throw a hysterical fit of massive proportions for Ron's benefit, then head to headquarters to spy. Return to us in the Chamber once it's clear you can. I trust your judgment in this."

"Yes, master. Dobby is being most upset for your Wheezy."

Harry wrapped his arms around his bonded after the house elf left, waiting for the former Death Eaters to awaken and discover their new circumstances. Eventually they did, dragging themselves up with moans of pain, shaking their heads and looking around fearfully, then with surprise as they took in the sight of their surroundings.

It wasn't until they began to rise to their feet that Tom intervened. He gave Harry a quick kiss and swept out, emerging shortly in the audience chamber wearing the guise of Peter Pettigrew, and breathing heavily as though he had been running. "Master, the wards are down!" he squeaked out, then came to a dead stop as he seemed to notice the bodies at the center of the room.

He ran to them, hovering uncertainly over the corpse of his master, then looked up at those living. "What happened?" he asked anxiously. "Is this why my Dark Mark is gone?"

"What the hell do you think?" one of them snapped. "And why are you pretending? If you've no mark left to speak of, obviously you did not wish to be a Death Eater in the first place, no matter how skilled you are at groveling and sniveling, you disgusting little rat."

Tom looked briefly taken aback. He cast his gaze over those standing, then slowly nodded, a crafty look appearing on his face as he stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back. Given his guise, he looked quite ridiculous. After a moment he spat on the corpse and kicked it for good measure. "The Ministry," he said absently. "They might forget I was one if I go tell them how to find this place. Or maybe Dumbledore? He likes to give second chances."

He snapped back into focus, then bolted as if all the hounds of hell were after him. The survivors glanced at each other, then ran out as well.

The door opened again to admit Tom and was quickly closed. He rolled his eyes expansively as he rejoined them at the window, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "That was mildly disgusting. They seemed to buy it, though."

"Are we to stay here?" Harry asked. "To be sure?"

"Severus, I think now would be an excellent time for you to toddle off to see the old man."

"Yes, quite. I will join you in the Chamber later on." He disapparated, the wards no longer there to prevent him.

"We will stay a while longer, Haze. However, you will apparate or portkey out at the first sign of trouble. I will not take chances with your safety." Then he looked at Harry with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "It's too bad, really. If I had my way, I'd have you bent over right now and screaming."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "You know, it's a bit sick that you're thinking of sex at a time like this."

"At a time like what? We've just been set free. What better thing to celebrate?"

And those statements sparked a discussion on appropriate behavior that completely distracted Harry from his anxiety, not that he realized what Tom was up to until the sound of people racing into the audience chamber brought his attention back to their location and the passage of time.

Tom swore when he noticed Mad-Eye Moody and prodded Harry. "Go, now. I'm right behind you."

«« :: »»

Chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos. Former Death Eaters had scattered in every conceivable direction, spreading the news of the Dark Lord's demise, helped along by those who had been in public places and had dropped on the spot, either in death or unconsciousness. Fudge was said to be having mild hysterics, with no idea what kind of speech to devise for the public as an official statement on recent events.

Dobby reported that he had interrupted a family meal at the Burrow. With Harry's disappearance, they had most likely all been called home by their parents. He had popped in and thrown himself at Ron, wailing about how he could not sense Harry Potter sir, and that something must be terribly, horribly wrong.

Ron had sat stock still during the display, pale as a ghost, and ignoring the fact that Dobby was quite nearly strangling him. Dobby allowed as how he had managed, in between loud, anguished sobs and wails that is, to whisper that master was actually fine.

Naturally, chaos erupted there as well, and Dobby slipped off after a bit once everyone was too busy to pay him any further attention, heading straight to headquarters. He was in good time for Severus's arrival, not having seen or heard anything of particular interest up until that point.

Albus, presumably alerted to matters afoot by the Weasleys, had arrived only minutes prior to Severus and was already calling in all Order members that could come. They barely discussed anything at all, in point of fact. Once Severus had demonstrated his newly found freedom from the Dark Mark, Albus swung into action and designated several teams for various tasks, such as canvassing the Ministry for information.

Remus was ordered to remain at headquarters and coordinate. No doubt, Albus was concerned about his potential reaction to seeing a dead Harry, should that actually be the case. And not long after that, Albus and many of those still present swept off to check out a report detailing the location of Voldemort's headquarters.

Dobby was sent back off to Grimmauld Place to continue to keep an eye on things, and to pass along a bit of discreet reassurance to Remus before blending into the woodwork again. Thus, with everything going on, it was very late that evening when everyone was able to gather in the Chamber library to have a chat.

Ron had been slipped a time turner to effect his escape. As far as his family was concerned he was resting in bed, heavily drugged, and not likely to wake up anytime soon. Severus had simply melted back into shadow, and Remus stormed off after screaming bloody murder at Albus over something that came out during the immediate aftermath.

Tom looked around the room and smiled, then lifted his glass of port. "A toast. To freedom and new beginnings." And once everyone had taken a healthy sip of their drinks, their version of a meeting began.

"Albus has his hands full," Remus said with a chuckle.

"Why's that?" Harry asked. "Oh, and let's all get used to the new names, please?"

"Albus admitted after the bodies had been found and we were back at Grimmauld Place that he has always suspected Harry would die once he defeated Voldemort. My ears are still ringing from the screaming that started up over that. Of course, I was right up there with them. You know I never lose my temper, but I think I did a damn good job of faking it in this case."

Severus snorted and had another sip of port.

"Now you have people reacting over Voldemort's defeat, Harry's death, and Albus's departure from reticence. It's not a happy combination. At least half are torn up over feeling happy at the same time as being heartbroken."

Harry fiddled with his hair and mused out loud, "I wonder how Percy is reacting to the news."

Ron choked on his butterbeer and had to have his back slapped a few times. "Percy didn't even come to the house. He's probably sucking up to Fudge as we speak, even at this hour. I'm more worried about Hermione. I don't know if anyone has bothered to tell her yet. She might have been lost in the shuffle."

"She'll surely know by morning," Tom pointed out. "I cannot imagine the Daily Prophet will ignore this. As it is, I'm surprised they didn't put out a special evening edition. What about the Death Eaters released?"

Severus looked up. "Presently, there seems to be no push toward capturing them. I would not be greatly surprised if it comes out later that a number of them had made donations to Fudge to keep it that way."

"Stay on your guard, please," Tom requested. "I will be most upset if someone attempts to haul you off."

"Rest assured," Severus drawled, "I will turn up on your doorstep requesting asylum if need be."

"No suspicions, then?" Harry asked.

"Not that I could see," Remus replied, then glanced at Severus, who shook his head. "Actually, Albus was already planning a memorial service when I stormed out."

Harry blinked. "Can't get rid of me fast enough, eh?"

Remus shrugged. "Nice touch with the wands, by the way. Albus was mildly upset that such powerful wands were both destroyed."

"Oh, that's all I would need. Harry Potter's wand up on display in some wizarding museum. Maybe next week he can contact Madame Tussauds and commission a wax replica for display at the Ministry to replace the magical brethren fountain in the atrium."

They discussed things for a while longer, then Harry dragged Ron off to sit on the rug in front of the fire. "Your reaction?"

Ron shrugged and tipped back his bottle for another swig. "I'm not sure. Tonight's been given over to shock, of course. Tomorrow, though. . . ."

"I guess it depends on whether or not you find out from normal sources what the old man said about my death."

"Well, yeah. If I knew that, I think I'd have to throw one hell of a temper tantrum. I am a Weasley, after all."

Harry snickered and nodded. "Oh, by the way, you will want to be careful of Hermione."

Ron gave him a suspicious look.

"Don't make the mistake of not eating. Slow down, maybe, but don't try to go hungry or make out like you simply don't think to eat. If you're not careful, she might try to force feed you. I did make her promise _not_ to tell you I told her the prophecy, but we'll see if she keeps it. I think she will. Anyway, I kind of hope you'll continue to be friendly with Blaise. You might even want to consider offering to help him with Defense tutoring if that keeps on—the Slytherin children, I mean. Maybe at Roary's?"

Ron nodded absently and said, "I wonder how long it should take me to get over your death."

"I have no idea," Harry confessed. "I can only tell you what happened for me over Sirius, and how I ended up dealing with it. It still hurts, and I still miss him, but it doesn't dictate my life."

Ron left not long after, needing to get home before his extra time ran out. Severus was not far behind him, though Remus was perfectly happy to use the spare room for the night, preferring to be in a place no one could find him at for a bit.

The next morning, after several rounds of celebratory sex in the interim, Harry and Tom had breakfast with Remus, idly discussing a copy of the Daily Prophet Dobby had delivered, not to mention how it was that Remus (and even Ron) knew Ash and Haze.

"It might have been another story if our new ages were different and we could produce the appropriate records, or at least for Haze. It's incredibly rare that anyone transfers into Hogwarts, but not unheard of," said Tom.

Harry shook his head. "True, but no, not in a million years. I can just see it now," he said, casting a dark look at Tom. "You, showing up as the new Defense professor, tormenting me in class with mental comments and trying to make me blush or get me squirming in my chair from need. No, don't think so." He flapped his hand dismissively.

Remus chortled in amusement. "Well, there's nothing to stop either of you at this point from doing whatever you like. You could set up a shop of some kind in Hogsmeade. That's plenty excuse right there for meeting people and establishing access."

Tom looked thoughtful at that. "Possibly." Then he looked at Remus appraisingly. "Of course, it could be that we did so and hired you on as an employee."

"We are," Harry added quickly, before Remus could formulate a response, "remarkably tolerant and enlightened people, after all." He would not know until later how his friend would react to his inheritance.

Remus rolled his eyes at that and shook his head slowly. "I should know better. Now, to deliberately change the subject. . . ." He tapped the paper.

_:That reminds me. We should probably pay a visit to the bank soon, just to let Greltack know you're fine,:_ Tom sent, then said, "They seem to be reacting quite favorably, and as well they should be considering not one of them ever lifted a finger to effect this outcome. I expect the celebrations should last a week or more."

"Do you suppose the memorial service he's planning will be bruited about in the paper? I'm not sure I even want to think about where they'd arrange for one. There could be twenty people there, or thousands."

"That is your chance, Haze," Remus said with a slight grin. "If it's big enough for total strangers to attend, you could hear firsthand how people speak on your behalf."

Harry reached over to cuff him playfully before having another bite of his breakfast.

* * *

**Several Years Later**

* * *

Haze stepped out the back door and made his way through the kitchen garden, eventually arriving at the gate leading to the property next door. Once through that he ambled into his neighbor's house and made himself at home at the kitchen table, nodding a greeting to the house elf that arrived to drop a plate of food in front of him. 

"Morning, mate."

Haze looked up and smiled on seeing Ron stagger in and take a seat. "Late night?"

Ron shrugged and looked around blearily, perking up considerably as an elf slipped him a heaping plate. "Eh, I suppose so. Made the mistake of stopping in to see mum and dad."

Haze tilted his head in confusion, then came to a realization. "They've been nagging you again, haven't they."

Ron grunted, a tired scowl briefly gracing his face. "Yeah. Mum gave me another talking to about not having married yet." He rolled his eyes and snatched a piece of toast off the rack. "It's not like she doesn't already have five million grandkids." As he was buttering it he said casually, "That's not really it, though."

"Oh?"

Ron gave him a sidelong glance. "The old man died last night."

Haze's fork clattered to the table.

"They started dithering around like chickens with no heads. Even after all the crap that came out back then, they're practically crushed that he's finally gone. I even came in for a lecture for not looking upset enough." Ron rolled his eyes again and piled eggs on his toast.

Haze sat back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. "You know, I just felt another weight lift off my shoulders. He's the only one I was worried might start digging."

Ron reached over and nudged him with his free hand. "Oi. No reason to stop eating. You know what'll happen if Felk looks in and sees you like that."

Haze quickly sat up and grabbed his fork, having already come in for more than one scolding for not eating enough at Ron's. The elf always managed to make it sound like Haze was insulting him and his cooking for not diving in like Ron did. He sometimes wondered if he let the house elves bully him too much, truth be told.

He was perhaps halfway through his meal when the distinct sound of heels clicking along the corridor intruded, causing Ron to swear under his breath and shoot him an apologetic look. "I forgot," he said in a low tone.

A few seconds later Hermione stepped into the kitchen, freezing for a moment when she saw Haze. "Good morning, Ron," she said, then as a deliberate afterthought, "Riley."

Haze nodded and pushed back his chair, dropping his fork on his plate. "Granger. Ron, it's been grand, but I'm afraid I've lost my appetite. Later, mate." He stood up and strolled out to the garden, then back to his own house.

Hermione had been devastated by the death of Harry Potter, though Haze still wondered just how much of that was caused by her confident promise to figure things out, and her failure to do so. Things might have been fine when they met much later on, with him in his new life, except she took irrational exception to the fact that Ron had found such a close confidant, and had more than once accused him of trying to replace Harry.

In the end, she transferred her animosity over the situation directly to Haze, and always acted like a frigid bitch in his presence. Obviously, Ron had forgotten she planned on stopping by that morning and so failed to warn him. He would have begged off breakfast if he'd known, and spared himself the attitude.

By the time he wandered into his living room his bonded was already up and absently popping fruit into his mouth. Ash looked up and paused, then said, "What's got you looking so ornery?"

Haze sat down heavily and scowled.

"Oh, her again. Is that all?"

He shook his head and reached over to steal a strawberry right out of Ash's hand. "No, but that is why I'm home so quickly. Ron forgot to mention she'd be over. The pest is dead. Ron's parents informed him last night when he went to visit."

Ash smiled brilliantly. "We could always go to the memorial, sit in the back row, and make snide comments to each other while ignoring the people scowling at us for not being properly respectful."

Haze chuckled and ate his stolen strawberry.

**— The End —**

* * *

**Final Notes **: I really don't think I should walk away completely until I explain at least one thing for certain, and that's the title of this story. A couple of people were curious, so I'll be nice and give you the reason for it. 

The meaning is simple enough, though it's a derivation of the actual source, Xenogears. The red herring, if you can call it that, would be the song _A One Winged Angel_ from Final Fantasy VII (an excellent tune, by the way). If you read the paragraph below (courtesy of the game script posted by Sheamon at GameFAQs), you'll begin to understand.

_Margie: Did you notice that the two great angels only have one wing each...?  
According to a legend handed down in Nisan... God could have created  
humans perfectly... But then, humans would not have helped each other... So  
that is what these great single-winged angels symbolizes... In order to fly,  
they are dependant on one another. _

So, going from that, we come to my version of a soul bond, which entails what you already know. If both halves of a couple aren't alive by the time the eldest hits sixteen, then the eldest goes mad. The fact that Tom was an abused orphan...well, he went more than a little psycho.

Obviously, this also completely ignores what we learned about Tom Riddle during HBP. Then again, I began this well prior to that coming out, so that's perfectly all right.

P.S. Eileen, Remus, and Severus are all fine.

* * *

**Edition**: 22 December 2007 


End file.
